


Ichabod and Abbie's Continuing Adventures in: Having a Baby

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Series: Sleepy Hollow OTP Prompts [30]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Abbie's starting to show, Adorable Ichabod, Alternate Universe, Arguing, Aunt Jenny!, Baby Kicking, Baby Mills-Crane, Baby Names, Baby Shower, Baby Showers, Banter, Body Image, Breakfast, Childbirth, Children, Clothing, Complications, Couch Cuddles, Crane is a Worrier, Cravings, Daddy Fears, Domestic Fluff, Endearments, Established Relationship, F/M, False Contractions, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Feels, First Time Pregnancy, Fluff, Gender Reveal, Hormones, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I can finally tag it as that!!!, Ichabod cooking, Ichabod talks to the baby aka Abbie's stomach, Ichabod's Jealous, Kidnapping, Labour, Labour Contractions, Lamaze Classes, Making Up, Marriage Proposal, Mood Swings, Morning Sickness, Mostly Anger and Sadness and Short-Temperedness, Moving In Together, Nurseries, Pain Management, Painting, Panic, Police Duties, Pregnancy, Public Display of Affection, Revealing the Pregnancy, Romance, Room Themes, Runes, Shopping for Baby, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Someone Wants Sex!, Spooning, Sympathy Sickness, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, Weight Issues, braxton hicks, lots of emotions, lots of feels too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 32,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Pregnant</i>.</p>
<p>It wasn't how Abbie had envisioned her future, but she's more than willing to find her footing. Ichabod's positively thrilled, and Abbie can't help but feel that his enthusiasm is catching.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Each chapter is stand-alone unless otherwise stated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Big Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Now a multi-chapter! Thank you, persistent followers and my brain!
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

Abbie didn't know how it happened. Okay, no, she knew _how_ it happened, but... she didn't know how it happened.

All she knew was that she'd barely gotten out the door of the cabin this morning before having to run back inside to be violently sick and now she was staring at the little blue circle on the stick and she was pregnant.

Her and Ichabod, they were _so_ careful. Ever since their first time (actually, their second time, because Abbie had had to explain condoms to him the first time, and the first time had then been shuffled off because she was _totally_ out of the mood from explaining to him), they had been careful. It wasn't for a lack of not wanting a child. She knew that Ichabod wanted one oh-so-badly, still pining over his missed life with Jeremy as he grew up. It wasn't as though he brought it up regularly, though. Abbie herself hadn't thought about it much. She knew she was thirty-three and probably should have been thinking about it, but she hadn't. She thought, maybe, in the future...

The future, because the present was riddled with demons and textbook monsters that were real. The End of Days was coming; it was their job to stop it and Abbie did not want to bring a kid into that.

Except, now she was.

Her eyes prickled. She was torn between simultaneously putting her hand over her mouth in shock or putting her hand over the top of the baby growing inside her. She did neither, but leaned forward to rest her forehead against the countertop.

"Miss Mills?" A year and half into their relationship and he still only called her Abbie in moments of self-proclaimed importance.

"Just give me a minute," she said thinly. Her voice came out watery. She wanted to be angry for that, but her eyes just stung more. She closed them defiantly.

"... Abbie?" The doorknob twisting was the only warning Abbie had before Ichabod peered in. "Forgive the intrusion, but I was worried when... you..." he trailed off. "Abbie, what's wrong?"

Abbie irritably scrubbed her hands against her eyes. "Nothing, nothing's wrong."

Ichabod pushed the door open the rest of the way. "Then, enlighten me as to why you are crying." His tone softened. "Abbie... Whatever is wrong, I will find you the best possible care if I am not able to give it-"

Abbie shook her head wildly. She felt like she was on the brink of bursting into tears for real. Was this the hormones? Was she going to be like this for the whole nine months?? "No, nothing's wrong, it's fine."

Ichabod crossed the room, taking her face in his hands. "Then, what is wrong, my love?" He thumbed away the remains of the tear tracks. "Anything that I-"

Knowing she was about three seconds away from turning his coat into a tissue box if he kept showering her with his concerned talk, she grabbed his hand away from her face and placed it on her stomach instead, pressing her hand over his warm skin to keep it there.

Ichabod frowned. "That hardly explains anything. Are you experiencing abdominal discomfort? Has Mother Nature come to pay visit again?"

Abbie _almost_ smiled. Lack of the latter was the whole reason she had figured it out in the first place, combined with the vomiting. "No."

"Then what-"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. She seemed incapable of making it above that volume, nearly reduced to anguished tears again as she awaited his reaction.

Ichabod froze, staring at her with wide eyes.

Abbie again wanted to smile, but she couldn't manage it. She was happy, she _really_ was, it was just... this _world_. How could she bring something so innocent into the middle of a war that only she and Ichabod could end? And _not_ feel _guilty_ about that?

Ichabod inhaled suddenly, his eyes jerking between her stomach and her face. "You're pregnant?"

Abbie nodded.

He did another circuit. Abbie was watching the light dawn in his eyes, like an excited kid in a candy store. Or like his first trip to a Black Friday event. It was... sweet. "You're pregnant," he repeated. "You're with child." He sucked in another deep breath, swiping his thumb against her stomach. " _My_ child. Our child... But how?" He looked up quickly. "I swear, I did everything that you told me to do-"

Abbie shook her head. "No... I know. Things happen. The condom can, um," she took a deep breath and blew it out, "the condom can rip, or have a tear in it, and birth control isn't one-hundred percent..."

Ichabod's wide eyes flickered between her stomach and her again. "... We're having a baby."

Abbie did manage a small smile this time. Ichabod's joy was contagious; she couldn't help it. But as soon as she smiled, her lips trembled and she broke down for real.

"Abbie!" Ichabod pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "... You're not happy," he muttered.

"No, I am, I am," Abbie gasped.

"You have a most strange way of showing it." He ran his fingers through her hair comfortingly. "These do not appear to be tears of happiness."

"It's just..." She struggled to breathe. "How can we... this kid... Moloch."

"We will raise this child to the best of our ability. I will not let any harm come to him or her. Moloch will not take this away from me, just as he will not take you, or my new life. We will fight him in the meantime, Abbie, and we will prevail."

"But the _war_..."

"There is always war," Ichabod replied. "Millions of people, although I find the number to be staggering in itself, have raised their children through war. We will be no different. Our child will be product of perhaps the two best suited teachers of wartime; when the time comes, we will expose the hidden truths of our world. But in the meantime, you and I will do our best, for that is all that we can do." Ichabod kissed her temple. "Besides, this child will have perhaps the best mother I believe it could have. He or she will thrive under Abigail Mills' careful watch."

Abbie laughed weakly, but his words did strike a chord within her, going by the warmth blossoming in her chest. Maybe she could be a mother. A good one, even. And... if Moloch tried anything, she knew her and Ichabod alike would go down fighting to protect their child.

"You're going to be a pretty good father, too," she mumbled, raising her head to smile at him weakly.

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "‘Pretty good’? Dare I sound presumptuous when I say that I will be a _stupendous_ father."

Abbie laughed again, resting her head against his shoulder. "Yeah... you will be."

"You, as a mother, as well," Ichabod said softly.

Abbie sighed and closed her eyes. They were going to have a baby. Things were about to get fifteen times more complicated than they already were.

... But looking at it even now, she wouldn't change any of this for the world.

 


	2. How Far Along?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation of the previous chapter with additional fluff!

2.

Ichabod didn't let go of her even after she had stopped crying. She didn't try to pull away, just focussed on his arms around her and tried not to let her thoughts run away with wild abandon. She was going to be a mother. Her and Ichabod were going to be parents.

Ichabod's head was tucked against hers, his breath in her hair and his hands in the small of her back. "I love you," he said suddenly, his lips moving against her hair. "I love you more than I have anyone in my life, Abbie."

Abbie sighed. "That's not true. You had Katrina a _long_ time before you had me."

"And I loved her immensely. But through the secrets and the lies, even at the end, she was concerned only for my well-being. _Our_ well-being. If it had not been for her counsel, or her sacrifice, I would not have come to see what I had been blind to all along." He kissed her head. "You."

Abbie ducked her face further into his chest. "Stop," she said dryly. "You're going to make me blush."

Ichabod laughed softly, rubbing her back absently. "Regarding the pregnancy, can I inquire as to how far along you are?"

Abbie chuckled. "It's yours. You should know."

Ichabod made a noise in the back of his throat, almost like a huff. "Yes, however, we have... um..." He was floundering.

"Had sex," Abbie said bluntly.

"Yes." His tone was embarrassed; Abbie didn't need to look up to see he was blushing. He got flustered too easily. "We have had... sex in the past few weeks... uh."

"More than once," Abbie continued.

"Yes," Ichabod mumbled.

Abbie laughed and finally pulled away, smiling up at him. "I remember it fondly, Crane." She squeezed his arms. "But I don't know which time made it stick. Home tests can show up like two weeks after sex, I think, but then sometimes they don't show up at all. I mean, I'm only just due for my period last week, so... no more than five weeks, at the absolute latest. I'll have to make an appointment... find a doctor..." She blew out a breath. "What do we tell everyone?"

"Hmm." Ichabod stooped over to press his lips against her forehead. "Must we yet? I relish in the idea that we may celebrate on our own, for awhile."

Abbie nodded. "That sounds great, actually." She didn't know how she was going to tell Jenny to begin with. Or Irving, because he was candidate number one on the _this is what can happen to the innocent_ list, or Hawley, because he was in love with her, or Reyes, because of work... Nope. She'd rather not tell them at all yet.

"Good." Ichabod kissed her lips softly. "It's all to us. Our baby..."

Abbie smiled nervously, resting her forehead against his. "Our baby," she repeated, and stared back into Ichabod's eyes, filled with love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had tinkered with the idea of continuing this story, and had a _lot_ of people asking me, and so, the muse is with me for it. Updates should be pretty forthcoming, but, with the winter hiatus, we'll see how long SH's muse sticks around. Never fear, though. I have chapters written in advance. I was up late last night.
> 
> **My lovely Sleepyheads! If you have an idea for what you want to see during the pregnancy - _not_ post-birth, I doubt I'll try to extend it into that - _please_ comment. I have a serious lack of knowledge about children, and you can only find so much on the internet. If you want to see Ichabod in the baby department at the department store looking completely bewildered by all the choices, let me know! If you have a moment that you think is trivial and pointless, trivial and pointless is fine! I need lots and lots of ideas, and none of them are going to be stupid. I can't guarantee I'll use every single one, but any idea will help me to get the ball rolling, and you'll also get to see a moment you thought up!**
> 
> **If you _do_ have an idea, make sure to check for reply comments by me. I may need more information to clarify, or I may need to ask stupid questions about how many weeks is she supposed to be when this happens? This goes for the anonymous's/not logged ins. Make sure you check back! :)**
> 
> ****Thank you for all of your support. This is all you fan's faults, by the way. So I hope you enjoy it. I've been smiling like an idiot whilst writing it, so I hope the effect transcends as you follow their adventures in pregnancy. :D


	3. Morning Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie is beginning to form a complex - loathing - relationship with her morning sickness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few people requested this. I already had it written, actually; it's a given. *nods*
> 
> Also, I wanted to note that these chapters should be around this length, 700-1,000 words, some might be longer, some will be shorter. I can't write a novel for every little idea, but I'm trying to make them little stories in themselves.

Abbie hated the morning sickness. It came earlier than it had been, and with a vengeance, some mornings, prompting her out of bed at only five-thirty.

She flushed the toilet again and wearily got to her feet. Washing her hands and then rinsing with mouthwash was a painstaking task, but she managed. Slowly. And then she stumbled back into the bedroom, wracked with pain and nausea and exhaustion.

Ichabod was half sitting in bed, blinking blearily. He was tangled up in the blankets, but stopped trying to push them away as Abbie trudged back in. "Miss Mills." His voice was all deep and throaty and it sent shivers down her spine. No, Abbie! Damn if it wasn't him that had gotten you into this in the first place! Restraint!

"Crane," she muttered in reply, crawling back into bed next to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhmm..." Abbie groped for the blankets, but they seemed to be all tangled around Ichabod's torso. She fumbled helplessly for another moment before giving up, thumping her face into the pillow with a sigh. "Tired."

Ichabod sat up, going by the change in the mattress, and it felt like he was having a spectacular fight with the blankets himself.

He wasn't there every night. He hadn't moved in or anything. That was just one more problem on the list of things that were going wrong (in the best possible way, of course). He stayed overnight sometimes, which had become more frequent since they had found out about the pregnancy two weeks ago. Again, that was also how they had gotten into this predicament.

Nevermind that they'd been dating for almost three months before Ichabod stopped being anxious by being in her bedroom. It wasn't too long after that that they'd started sleeping together, though. Literal and metaphorical.

Abbie wondered if they had moved too fast. But they had been friends beforehand, so the two years they spent together, and then the _actual_ dating, so that was fine, right? In dating terms? They'd be fine as parents. They had a good relationship. Abbie thought so.

The blankets descended upon her shoulders. She opened her eyes blearily as Ichabod tucked the comforter around her.

"Go back to sleep, Miss Mills. Duty calls in one half hour."

Abbie smiled blearily. "Thanks."

Of course, when her alarm blared a half hour later, Abbie was _not_ ready to get up. But Ichabod was gone and the bed was noticeably less warm, plus, she wanted to work while she still could. She trudged to the kitchen to get a much needed cup of coffee.

"This maple-cured sausage, as it says on the label," Ichabod greeted her, not turning away from the stove, "should be finished in a few minutes." He glanced up and smiled. "Meanwhile, there's eggs and bacon if you want to begin eating without-"

Abbie clapped a hand over her mouth. The grease from the bacon and the sausage or the eggs or God knows what was _way_ too strong. She briefly registered his panicked look before she had to run to the bathroom again.

She'd apologize later. Shit, he'd be like a kicked puppy all morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got ideas? Continue to request! I'm open to new ideas still; there's nine months of this and Abbie's only around five weeks thus far. 
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely support, as well! This isn't my usual story idea, but... gah, Ichabbie is so damn cute; I want them to fricking kiss in the fall finale.


	4. Oh Crane, Not You, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just Abbie who's having problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by **[Lisa Watson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaYWatson/pseuds/LisaYWatson)**.

"Oh God, I feel horrible," Abbie muttered, collapsing onto the sofa. "I can't take this. I know it's a good thing, it means everything is going right, but..." She scrubbed at her eyes. "My throat is raw, my mouth permanently tastes like vomit, and-"

Ichabod suddenly jumped up from the chair, practically running from the room.

"Crane?"

Abbie was met with the sound of vomiting down the hall. She froze where she was, firstly because it made her swallow uneasily, secondly because, why was he throwing up? And then Abbie remembered something about sympathy sickness (God, they needed to get on the books), and that the men could experience it, and...

She started laughing long before he resurfaced from the bathroom. She was practically crying when he did stagger back into the room, his face pale save for the hectic spots on his cheeks. His shoulders were straight, but something like that kicked puppy look was creeping into his gaze.

"Ah, Crane." Abbie pulled herself to her feet, going over to hug him. "I'm sorry. It sucks." She knew from experience, now.

Ichabod hugged her back slowly. "What's happening to me? It's most uncanny, you're the one who's pregnant but I could have sworn I've been nauseous for days. Reaching a climax with this escapade..." He tucked his head against her hair.

"Men can get morning sickness, too. Sympathy sickness, actually, I think it's called. You feel what I feel. It's, uh, a psychological trick by your body or something." He was shaking sporadically beneath her grip. On instinct, she reached up to make sure he wasn't warm. "Join the club."

Ichabod curled around her slightly, gripping loosely at her shirt. "I understand why you have looked so ragged in the mornings. To experience this every day..." he trailed off.

"It's horrible," Abbie replied. "And I don't care what anybody says about it being glorious, maybe that'll change when I actually _have_ the kid, but it's just _gross_ right now."

Ichabod drew in a deep breath, slow and calculating.

Abbie tried not to pull away immediately - she knew what he was doing, she'd been doing it herself lately - and failed. "Sorry, it's just, don't puke on me, Crane. Now's really the worst _possible_ -"

"Do we have anything for anti-nausea?" he asked thinly.

"I'll put it on the list," Abbie said wisely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sympathy sickness! I'm not exactly sure if this was what you wanted, you said sympathy pretty-much-everything, but I've played with this idea for other fandoms, too, so I was more than eager to write it this way! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Ideas are, as always, still requested and appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	5. Mood Swings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't mean to take it out on her sister. Really, she doesn't even know what made her mad to begin with.

Abbie was pissed.

She was pissed because she was upset and near tears again because _every. damn. time_ she thought about how _horrible_ she was going to be at raising this kid, her body seemed to think it was necessary that she cry. She didn't want to cry, she hated crying, so she was pissed that she was so damn gung-ho on crying.

It was never-ending. She wanted to scream, and she was barely seven weeks in. She didn't know how she was going to come out of this with her sanity in the end, except, apparently, that ‘it got better’ the further along she went. She'd yet to see improvement, only a deterioration.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her irritated glaring towards the blank screen of her television. She glanced at Jenny's name on the ID before picking up. "Hey, Jenny."

_"What are you up to?"_

"Nothing." Abbie sank lower on the couch, propping her feet up. "Contemplating Life and the end of the world." Not too far from the truth, ever.

_"Cheery."_

"You know me. Did you need something?"

_"Nope. Just something to do. What's Crane up to?"_

"Dunno." She didn't. He'd gone off to the library - he preferred books to internet - although she could guess what he was doing research on.

_"Seriously?"_

"Well, I don't have a track on his phone," Abbie replied. "He's free to do what he wants, as long as it doesn't cost me money."

 _"You are_ really _concerned. When are you going to move in together, anyway? You've been together, what, half a year now?"_

Abbie sighed, irritation flickering hot beneath her skin. "Yes, about seven months. And we have no reason to move in together, we're not rushing it." Partial truth... which meant she was lying.

 _"Yeah, but you two've banged, haven't you? More than that one time where Crane was practically beaming the entire day afterwards?"_ Jenny's tone was laughing; making fun, playfully, like sisters did.

Except, it just _irked_ Abbie to no end. "At least I've gotten laid," she retorted. It wasn't her best. Wasn't her worst.

_"Oh, ouch. I felt that right in my heart. Maybe I should go meet a two hundred year old stranger and fuck him like a wild animal."_

"Go ahead," Abbie said calmly. "You do that. Because _my_ sex life has nothing to do with you." She jabbed the end button on her phone so hard that it made her finger hurt.

Only afterwards did she realize that she'd just hung up on her sister. For making a remark on their sex life. For being a sister, because that's what sisters did.

Abbie cried for a whole ten minutes, only placated when Ichabod called with good timing and managed to talk her back into smiling. Well, mostly it was because she heard the librarian shush him for talking so loudly; well, it was hardly his fault that Abbie was in such a panic but it was funny nonetheless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Ichabod in this one really, but there'll be separate chapters with him having to be the rebound for her bouncy-ball moods. ^^


	6. Craving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Lieutenant Mills wants, Ichabod Crane, Esquire, gets (for her).

"Hey, have you got any potato sticks?"

Ichabod looked up from the book he was sorting through on Nephilim. He looked around as though he expected there to be someone there with a camera to jump out and say ‘boo’. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with what you speak of," he said, looking back at her. "I've never seen a potato in stick form."

Abbie snorted, swinging his cabinet closed. "They're like potato chips, but they're sticks. They come in a can. Or a bag, I guess. But you clearly have _no_ idea what I'm talking about, which means you don't have them." She sighed and sank back into the chair, swiping a book she hadn't looked at yet.

"I have potato chips," Ichabod said.

"No, I want the sticks."

Ichabod blinked before suddenly standing up. His chair scraped against the floor and startled her. "I'll go get you some."

Abbie looked up. "What?"

"I'll procure you some from the local grocery." He left the table, grabbing his coat from the rack. "If you'll allow me to use your car, I'll be back in ten minutes. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Now it was Abbie's turn to be dumbfounded into silence.

"No? Good. I'll be right back. Could I borrow your keys?" He looked at her expectantly.

Abbie handed them over in almost a daze. He was really going to make a run for potato sticks, which probably cost an eighth of what gas cost to drive to the grocery store. That was... that was really sweet.

He came back with three cans of potato sticks, another bag of potato chips, and french fries from the nearby diner.

... Thank God he could drive on his own now.

 


	7. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie's a policewoman, and crime doesn't stop.

Abbie spent the whole time getting kidnapped worrying about the baby. She didn't care about herself. Even though she was a Witness with a capital ‘W’, even though she was the one they wanted, she could only worry about the baby. If they shoved her and she fell, she could miscarry. If they drugged her, she could miscarry. If she panicked too much, she could miscarry. Any little thing could trigger an avalanche. So she just followed their commands, only spoke when she was spoken to, and tried not to think about how Ichabod would react if they lost their baby. Or how she would react herself.

It was a little difficult to breathe, but she was determined. She was breathing for two, three, if she counted Crane. She had to struggle through and not panic in the midst of it.

It was strange, though. Normally, she was trained to look for an exit, for a weak point, for a means of escape from the situation. She was trained, through the force and the war, to hunt, track, and, if necessary, kill. To put her life in danger for the sake of others around her, that was her duty as Witness. But now she had a different duty - being a mother - and she found that the unborn baby inside her was taking predominance over everything. She _did_ have maternal instincts, and they were rearing their head.

Crane found her what she learned was an hour and a half later, drawn up in the corner of the damp basement (what if there was mold?) with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

"Abbie! Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Ichabod crashed to his knees next to her. "I'm sorry that I didn't get here sooner, we were having some difficulty locating-"

Abbie flung her arms around him and went limp in his embrace. "I'm okay. We're okay," she babbled, curling her fingers into his coat. "We're okay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think someone might have requested something like this happening to Abbie, but I don't remember who annnnddd I had this written in advance, so it's probably not what you wanted. But I hope it makes someone happy... well, not happy, but feelsy, because feelsy is nice, too.
> 
> (Btws, nope, she hasn't told Reyes about her pregnancy yet. Yes, she should have, but she's Abbie.)


	8. But If You HAD to Pick One...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He picks either or, which more or less drives Abbie crazy.

Ichabod was absentmindedly rubbing circles onto her stomach.

Abbie wasn't entirely sure that he was aware of what he was doing, his attention seemed taken by the pioneer program on television, but yet, he was doing it. It didn't bother her or anything. It felt nice, actually, but the best part about it was that Ichabod was paying no attention to it.

She chuckled and reached out, placing her hand on his fingers to still them.

Ichabod looked back, first at her hand and then his. "Oh! Sorry."

Abbie held onto his hand when he tried to pull away. "Uh uh. It's fine."

Ichabod smiled shyly. "Very well, then."

Abbie laced her fingers with his, contemplating the size difference in their hands. In everything, actually, but they fit together perfectly, somehow. "You think it's a boy or a girl?" she asked quietly, running her thumb against the back of his hand.

The pioneer program was forgotten. "Fathoming a guess would be inclining towards which I would prefer it to be, and for that, I have no preference."

"Come on." Abbie looked up at him. "You _have_ to want one or the other."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow in a perfectly polished move. "Which one would you be so inclined towards?"

"You can't ask the mother that. Asking me that is like asking me to pick between butter and bread."

"Why would you assume that you can ask the father the same question and receive a response? I will be overjoyed with either. Ten fingers and ten toes will be perfection, no matter the anatomical make-up of the child."

Abbie almost said _aww_ before she stopped herself. He could just be so sweet sometimes. It was another one of his unconscious things, something he didn't notice that he did that made it ten times better. Besides, Abbie wasn't an _aww_ kind of woman, unless there were sleepy kittens involved.

Instead, she decided to wheedle him a little more. "But if you _had_ to pick..."

Ichabod smiled sweetly. "We are not playing this game, Lieutenant."

Abbie huffed.

She was deviating, herself. She wanted a girl because, well, feminism. She was a woman, she'd rather have a girl to take care of because she'd be able to understand her better. Well, maybe. But she _knew_ about being female, if nothing else. On the other hand, Abbie couldn't stand the thought of pink nurseries, fluffy tutus, or tiny little bows in hair. She was a tomboy herself, more or less, shunning all stereotypical ‘female’ things, taking a job in the middle of a man's market, fighting the war against a demon army. Maybe it was better to have a boy.

She didn't _know_. She guessed that was where Ichabod was coming from. It was too hard to pick. ... Didn't mean she didn't want his opinion. He was supposed to have it together. She was allowed to _not_.

"It will be utterly perfect, no matter the gender," Ichabod said, drawing her out of her thoughts. His thumb swept across her stomach gently. "Although perhaps we should talk about names," he said suddenly.

Abbie laughed out loud. "Oh, don't get started on that yet. Wait until the ultrasound."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [PS: Summer (that's me, btw!) already knows the gender for Baby Mills-Crane ;) So any suggestions for gender will at this stage not be taken into account any longer /grin]


	9. The Big Reveal: Part Two - Jenny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to tell everyone - and that includes Jenny.

Abbie was nervous.

God, she was never nervous. She'd told Reyes, and by lunchtime, everyone had known, leading to both thrilled and awkward congratulations (the latter mostly from Luke). It now meant desk duty, but she was ten weeks on and Abbie and Ichabod had decided to come out, so to speak.

"It is our son or daughter's time to shine," Ichabod said, reaching for Abbie's hand. "For such a small being, he or she garners quite the spotlight."

"It'll have a spotlight on it for a _long_ time, Crane. People can't resist babies." Abbie shifted. "It's just... _Jenny_. God."

"Miss Jenny will love the idea of being an aunt, I am sure." The doorbell rang as he spoke. "I'll get it, shall I?"

Abbie nodded slightly, twisting her hands over her stomach. She wasn't showing. It was easy to lie and say that nothing was amiss, but she had told her boss. She wasn't excited about the desk duty, just to be clear. But she couldn't lie to Jenny now.

"Wow. What's the fuss?" Jenny asked, joining Abbie in the living room. "You all but demanded me over... is everything alright?"

Abbie tried to smile. She felt like she was failing.

"Abbi-"

"We have a message for you, of sorts," Ichabod said smoothly, slipping back next to Abbie's side instantly. "Better for you to hear it from us than-"

"Oh, my God, are you pregnant?!"

Abbie winced.

Ichabod looked astounded. "How did you know??"

" _Ichabod_!" Abbie hissed, pinching his arm.

Jenny's eyes were wide with shock, but Abbie barely had time to register that before her sister came in for a bone-numbing hug. "Congratulations, Abbie!"

Ichabod smiled fondly down at them as Abbie hugged her sister back, loosely at first and then with more enthusiasm. "Thank you," she said.

Jenny pulled back. "How far are you?"

"Almost eleven weeks," Abbie said, hastening to add "I know I should have told you sooner, but Ichabod and I wanted to keep it a secret for a little bit before everyone started smothering us-"

"I bet that was his idea," Jenny said, looking at Crane. "Congratulations to you, too, by the way. All kidding aside, you're, uh..." She cleared her throat. "You're good for Abbie. And you'll be a good father. And you a mom!" Jenny exclaimed, looking back at Abbie.

Abbie raised her eyebrows. "Not that we had the best role model."

"Maybe that's true, but you've learned from mama," Jenny said, smiling. "I'm happy for you. When do you find out the gender? Do you have names picked out?"

"Woah, woah." Abbie held up her hands. "One step at a time. Gender's around..."

"Eighteen weeks," Ichabod supplied.

Abbie raised her eyebrows and looked up at him.

Ichabod smiled faintly. "I have been researching, Lieutenant. Although I must confess the idea of a machine telling us the baby's gender is beyond absurd to me; I genuinely look forward to the process involved in the future-telling."

Abbie laughed and looked back at Jenny. "There you go."

"Ohh, I hope it's a boy," Jenny said. "It better be a boy, Abbie. I cannot believe you're going to have a little Crane running around the house."

"Or a miniature Miss Mills," Ichabod added. "Even more miniature than she is now."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Jenny laughed at them both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the readers who have been commenting, Jenny hopes it's a boy. ;P


	10. Out-of-Control Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either the sex drive dries up or it goes off the charts.
> 
> Guess which one Abbie's _doesn't_ do.

" _Abbie_."

Abbie pressed her lips against his stomach. He was hot beneath her hands, all body and warmth and _man_. She shimmied up to close the distance, running her hands against his torso, sucking a warm patch of saliva against his skin.

" _Abbie_!"

Abbie pressed her lips against his, rolling her hips against him. She swallowed his moan, felt the vibrations through their battling tongues, lips clashing together as she looked for purchase on the blankets, his skin, his hair.

"Mmpphh."

"Shh," Abbie mumbled, sliding her fingers down his chest. She found a nipple and tweaked it between her fingers, feeling him jolt beneath her throughout her entire body. She laughed against his lips.

Ichabod groaned again, his fingers clenched into her hair. He tilted his head away, breaking the kiss with a gasp. "Abigail!"

Abbie nosed his cheek, trailing kisses down his jaw. "What, lover?"

"You are- you- you are moving too quickly!" Ichabod gasped.

Abbie raised her eyebrows and sat back slightly. "How so?"

Ichabod gasped for air, his hands falling away into the blankets once she had sat up. "I..." He blew out a breath, blowing his hair out of his reddened face. "Uh."

"Waiting here, Crane." She shifted her bare hips against his again; get to the point!

Crane grabbed two fistfuls of the blankets, knuckles going white. "I'm always more than willing but I can't keep up with your pace!" he gasped, all on one breath.

Abbie paused, her fingers resting on his kneecap. "... What?" She was positively voracious, how could he be tired already?

Ichabod huffed out a breath, lifting his gaze to stare at the ceiling. His skin was flushed, glistening with sweat as his chest heaved for breath. He was absolutely fucking beautiful.

Abbie's entire body _ached_ to have him.

"It's been an hour and a half," Ichabod said breathlessly. "I... ahem... need a moment." If it were possible, he seemed like he was getting more red by the moment.

Abbie blinked quickly, looking towards her alarm. "What? An hour and a _half_?" It wasn't like she had limits, or anything better to do, but she was just as horny coming out of it as she had been when she'd pushed him back into the bedroom earlier. He'd been so flustered that he'd tripped over his own boots and fallen onto the bed, breathing heavy and blushing all the way down his neck.

Ichabod smiled fleetingly, closing his eyes. "I believe your hormones are playing havoc with your, erm, desires."

"I'm not even tired," Abbie muttered, flopping onto the mattress next to him. "I could go another hour and a half."

Ichabod made a choked noise that he tried to cover with a cough. "U-Um... G-Give me a moment and I'll see what I can do."

Abbie smiled wryly. If nothing else, his intentions were in the right place. She had to give him kudos for that.

 


	11. What to...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now Crane panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by a few people - **Incinera** and **marshmallowdeviant** at the very least (I'm sorry if you requested this and I'm forgetting to mention you!). I actually went to the store and stood and flipped through it and yep. Poor Crane.

Abbie was used to being way too emotional by this point, but when she let herself into Crane's cabin and found him in a frantic tizzy, his eyes gleaming with tears, she was both shocked and nearly started crying from association.

"Crane? What's wrong?"

Ichabod looked up quickly. "Abbie!"

Abbie. It was a moment of crisis, then. Nerves shot up through her body, prepared for the worst. She crossed the room and gripped at his wrists. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Ichabod all but literally threw his arms around her, drawing her tight against his chest. "I barely dare to think of what I'll do if this pregnancy goes wrong," he muttered, burying his face into her hair.

Her hackles were already up and _that_ did not make them go down. It did throw a wrench into her heart, but that only made her panic slightly more. She wasn't supposed to be panicking to begin with, but Crane- "What in the hell are you talking about?" she asked, cradling him against her the best she could with their height difference. "Ichabod. Take a breath and tell me what this is about, this isn't good for me."

"There are so many opportunities for this to go badly." Ichabod pulled back suddenly. "What if the umbilical cord wraps around our baby's throat and suffocates it during labor?"

Abbie felt like she'd been slapped. "... What?" Things she hadn't even thought of; she was only just starting through the books she'd gotten from the library. What Crane was saying now, that was the reason she was _terrified_ to start reading those books because they said things that could go wrong. And, with their track record... No. It was better to be prepared, prepared, but not worried.

"I'm sure-"

"Or if there's a tear in the amniotic sack, or if the placenta is low-lying, preventing a natural birth. Are we having a natural birth?" Ichabod looked at her wildly for a moment before shaking his head. "Or Down's Syndrome. Or-"

"Woah." Abbie shook her head, taking a step back. "Crane, those are just... I mean, there's _millions_ of babies born perfectly healthy. The odds... I don't know the odds, but they're probably not that high."

"I'll grant you that odds of disease may be limited; however, looking at babies born breech or even-"

" _Crane_ ," Abbie interrupted, closing her eyes briefly.

Ichabod stopped talking, fidgeting beneath her grip. "... I'm sorry, I'm of terrible company today. The lovely woman at the library suggested _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ , a book which by title would seem to be helpful, but-"

Abbie's eyes snapped open. "Wait, _that's_ what you were reading?"

Ichabod looked back at her warily.

"Crane, Jenny and I used to be freaked out over that book even before we _contemplated_ pregnancy. We read it and we were so freaked out we said we'd never have our own kids." Abbie blew out a breath. The panic was subsiding, but only just. That damn book, that owner's manual to being pregnant, so people called it... She wasn't lying; she'd flipped through it when she was twelve and was terrified of ever getting pregnant. She'd forgotten about it before now. "Look, we have got to sit down and research, and you are _coming with me_ to the doctor's next time."

Ichabod nodded slightly, taking a step back.

"And we are going to take that damn book back to the library, and never touch it again. Agreed?"

"... Agreed." Ichabod sighed, digging the heel of his hand into his forehead. "I apologize. I suppose I was... needlessly overwhelmed. Things of this caliber, I can scarcely begin to imagine and yet, they are parts of pregnancy today."

"If anything happens, Crane... God forbid," she added, leaning back against the back of his sofa, "we're going to love this kid, no matter what. No matter what."

Ichabod smiled faintly. "... I fear that perhaps I am experiencing sympathy emotional distress as well," he said ruefully.

"I'd take offense to that if I didn't think my emotions were haywire myself." Abbie pushed forward and wrapped her arms around him again, more gentle this time. Less holding them together, but supporting one another. "We're gonna be okay, Crane," she said, resting her head against his chest.

"Yes. Optimism is by far the best course of action. We must remember that."

Abbie agreed, both for her sake and his. She tried to focus on the way that Crane's fingers trailed up and down her spine gently, but found that, all terrifying books aside, the thought of _what could be_ had settled into her head and she couldn't escape from it now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I do not own _What to Expect When You're Expecting_. Different volumes written by different authors.)


	12. Sooo Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shouldn't be so tired. She's got things to do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was prompted by **Xelbie** , who said something about Abbie falling asleep and Ichabod being all caring and concerned.

"Lieutenant, must you torture yourself in this way?"

Abbie sat up suddenly, banging her knees on the bottom of the table. "Ow- no, I'm fine. I'm fine," she repeated, reaching up to rub at her eyes. She was just... _so_ damn tired. This research was _so_ damn boring. She just wanted to _sleep_.

"You've fallen asleep three times in the past half hour," Ichabod said, raising his eyebrows.

Abbie glared back at him. "Hey, I'm tired. I've got your leechy little offspring sucking my energy. Try being bored to death by answering phones all day and then being bored to death by research on a fight that I can't take maternity leave from."

"I am merely stating that you should go rest."

Abbie sighed, putting her face into her hands. "I know, I know, I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Ichabod replied calmly. "But I dare to say that, ah, how did you put it... it's quiet time now." He had abandoned his chair at the table and was standing next to her with the horrible blanket from the back of the sofa.

Abbie wanted to glare, was too tired to do even that, and that blanket was going to smell like Crane and it was way too inviting. She smiled instead of glaring and pushed her body to its feet. "... Fine," she mumbled, allowing him to drape the blanket over her shoulders. "But I'm not laying on your sofa, it's impossible."

"Very well, allow me-"

"I can find my way to your bed, Crane."

"Just as well as I, by this stage," Ichabod replied, all cocksure with that typical one eyebrow hitched.

Abbie rolled her eyes, heading for the bedroom. "Thank you, _honey bun_." She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the dirty look he shot her for the nickname.

She'd never go public that Ichabod had once told her that _"if you must, it's honey double-jugs_ ". She'd just laugh herself to sleep on that note.


	13. Worry, Worry, Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crane worries over the smallest things, cut fingers and supplements included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by **marshmallowdeviant**! Something along the lines of Crane worrying over every little injury Abbie gets, as well as the idea on arguing about supplements. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this one! :D
> 
> Extra bonus to keep you interested: The gender reveal is coming up soon... heheh.

Abbie swore she'd never felt pain like that her entire life.

"Oh, _fuck_ me!" she exclaimed, dropping what she was holding to run to the sink to stick her bleeding finger under the tap. She distinctly heard the clack and thud of the knife and the tomato she'd been mangling hit the floor, and swore all sorts of new curses in her mind as the water ran red.

"Lieutenant?!"

Oh, hell, did he _have_ to sound so panicked?

"Are you okay?" he asked, appearing in the kitchen. "What did you... Abbie!" he exclaimed, upon seeing the blood. "You're hurt. What happened?"

Abbie sucked on her finger, wincing at the metallic taste of blood. "I cut my finger, don't overreact."

"I _told_ you that I should have-" He stopped upon seeing her look. "Let me see." He held out his hand.

"It's just my fingertip, Crane, I'll live."

" _Ab_ bie," he repeated, putting emphasis on her name which, in turn, made it seem like he was speaking to a troublesome child rather than his girlfriend pregnant with his kid.

She pursed her lips and stuck out her hand.

Ichabod took it gently, inspecting where she had sliced her finger. "Thank you."

"It's not that bad," Abbie muttered. She realized that her tone was starting to sound dangerously close to a pout. "It won't even need stitches," she said bluntly, squaring her shoulders. "I've had worse."

Ichabod sighed and guided her finger back under the still-running water. "You must be more careful, Lieutenant. It doesn't do to be losing any more iron than you already are." He looked up. "On that note, I meant to ask: have you been taking your prenatal vitamins regularly?"

Abbie sighed. "Yes, Crane."

"And you _are_ , in fact, keeping up with the supplements as well?"

"I told you that wasn't necessary."

Ichabod's head snapped up. "You _aren't_ taking the supplements?"

Abbie shrugged.

" _Lieutenant_!"

"Hey, don't give me that aghast tone," Abbie retorted. "You don't have to take anything if you're eating right and there's no other problems."

"But there's extensive research on the internet-"

"Oh, I _knew_ it was a bad idea to let you on my laptop," Abbie muttered, reaching for a towel. "You know, I liked it better when you thought the internet was a verb."

Ichabod huffed. "There's a collected mass of research that proves taking supplements before and during pregnancy can help to dimish any risk that the child may have later on."

"Those same studies don't mention how too much can affect the baby, either."

"Too _much_. I am confident in your ability to read a label, Lieutenant, and that you would take only the prescribed amount."

"Thanks for your support."

"I'm merely stating that it may be worth the time. Better to do this now than to regret _not_ doing it later."

"You didn't have _any_ supplements back in _your_ day," Abbie retorted.

That shut him up.

"And yes, there's a lot that's different now, but, I mean, most things turned out fine, more or less," Abbie continued. "Look, I'm new to this, too, you know. But I don't want to needlessly start downing pills when I can get it from the food I eat. Now if I get deficient, okay, but... right now, I think natural's better. Right?"

Ichabod was thinking; Abbie could see it on his face. She could also see the moment where he broke.

"Foiled by my own century," he mused. "Most unexpected."

Abbie smiled. "Uh huh. And I'll keep up the prenatals, I have to take those the entire time. Don't worry."

Ichabod smiled in return. "I endeavour not to."

"You and me both." Abbie unwound the towel from her finger. "Ugh. Well, at least it stopped bleeding but, jeez... it still hurts."

Ichabod tilted his head slightly and reached for her hand, bending over to press his lips against the spot where she'd sliced it.

Abbie felt her cheeks heat up. "Seriously?"

Ichabod straightened up, fighting a smile. "I am attempting to... kiss it better."

"That doesn't _actually_ work," Abbie laughed.

"I have to practice on someone, so that I may heal scrapes when our little one is here," he said, and there was no longer point in fighting the smile on his lips.

Abbie smiled, too. Funny; this was life and it was bliss. "You don't need the practice. You're already perfect."

"Not hardly, but I thank you for the compliment."

Abbie swatted at his shoulder. "Uh huh. Now chop up some tomatoes before I maim myself again, alright?"

"As you wish," Ichabod said, with a little fake bow. Abbie swatted at him again playfully; he dodged out of the way and left Abbie laughing as he prepared to finish dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The bit in the beginning with Abbie yelling "fuck me!" was inspired by a episode recap I read from an EW article. Apparently, Nicole hurt herself during filming and yelled it; Tom's response being "Are you okay, you fucking potty mouth?!" It was too funny not to mention. xD]


	14. About Work...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what if Ichabod Crane is nagging her? He's got the best possible reasons!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by **Xelbie** , who wanted something along the lines of Crane wanting Abbie to take off work way, way early.

"Miss Mills..." Ichabod began hesitantly.

Abbie looked up from her book slowly. "... Yes?"

"I was wondering..." He fidgeted.

Abbie raised her eyebrows and put the book down. "You're about to get on my back about something, aren't you?"

It wasn't that she minded. It really _wasn't_. She knew he had only the best intentions in his heart. But... _sometimes_.

_Miss Mills, you haven't taken your vitamins today. Have you felt any pain or experienced bleeding? You shouldn't eat so much ice cream, it cannot be good for either you or the baby in such a quantity. Lieutenant! Look at this app to track the pregnancy! Why do we not have this? You know I'm in the right, Abbie, it's just your hormones making you argue._

Some of them she snapped at him for more than others.

Good intentions, though, so she couldn't stay mad for long. And now, because he was so hesitant to bring up what he called advice, what Abbie sometimes called misguided annoyances, it was really quite adorable. What did he think she was going to do, hit him? ... She definitely had not gone defensive and menacing when he had brought up her ‘volatile’ hormones that _one_ time.

Ichabod licked his lips. "I was just noticing how tired you've been lately."

Abbie's eyebrows shot up further. "If you're about to say I look tired, you might want to back up."

Ichabod shook his head. "No. Nothing of the sort. But you are sixteen weeks and three days now-" sweet that he was counting, all in his mind, too - "and the effects have to be weighing on you more heavily than before."

"Uh... huh. What're you getting at?"

"I was thinking of how you-"

"Crane, _small words_ ," Abbie interrupted.

"I would prefer if you took off work!" Ichabod blurted, and then looked affronted with himself for putting out there so bluntly. "Forgive me, I meant... well, I intended to be more delicate."

Of all the things she was expecting, that wasn't one of them. At least he wasn't telling her she looked tired. "You want me to leave work?"

"I don't _want_ you to, but... on the days that I have seen you, you appear more worn down even though you are on desk duty. Physical or mental police work has to be taxing at any rate, let alone with child. I desire for whatever will allow you time off, to relax."

"You're sweet, Crane, but I'm only sixteen weeks, like you said." She picked up her book again. "Women work until the day they deliver, nowadays."

Ichabod made a choked sound. Abbie glanced at him over the top of her book.

"Until the day they deliver?" Ichabod repeated. "Surely you jest. I cannot allow you to be in such a stressful workplace until the day you deliver."

"Oh, really now?" Abbie asked, good-naturedly, although with the intention of getting a rise out of him nonetheless.

"I would prefer you to be at home. Safe." He was giving her those puppy dog eyes. Damn those puppy dog eyes. Abbie hated them almost as much as she loved them.

"You and I... neither of us are safe, Crane. Besides," she added, pushing on as his face fell infinitesimally at the reminder, "I'm on desk, there's no one running around, there's no shoot-outs. Generally."

Ichabod sighed. "... Very well. But please tell me that you do not intend to stay on site until the birth?" he asked, looking down at her hopefully.

Abbie shrugged. "I don't know. I'm thinking I'm taking the month before and the month after off, but it depends on how big I get and if I have trouble with it."

Ichabod nodded slowly.

"Alright?" Abbie asked.

"I may warm to the idea," Ichabod replied.

Abbie chuckled and put her nose back in the book. "No, you won't."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Also, in advance: forgive me if I phase out of writing fanfiction for this fandom after my current multi-chapters are complete. It's something that's possible.]


	15. You Can't Go Overboard, Crane!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie takes Crane shopping for the baby. He gets some of his own ideas along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two prompts in this chapter, baby shopping and bassinets, prompted by both **Angelica** and **Lisa Watson**. Thank you both for the lovely ideas; I hope this matches up to you guys's mental pictures!

This was the first time that Abbie had taken him to a baby-specific store. They had puttered around at the locals for a bit, but they didn't know the gender yet. They still didn't know the gender, but they were at a baby store - complete with a wallet full of money to spend on the necessities.

Ichabod looked, in a word, gobsmacked.

There was an array of emotion that went across his face, starting with shock, and then being overwhelmed, followed by glee and the utter pure _joy_ that was shining through his eyes now.

" _Miss Mills_ ," he breathed, and she couldn't help but smile at his tone. "There's so much... _stuff_."

Laughing partially because he was too damn cute, partially because he'd just used a modern century term, Abbie nodded in agreement. "Uh huh. We have to - hey!" She snapped her fingers in his face as his gaze deviated to the clothes section nearby. "No," she said sternly. "We don't know the gender yet, we are not picking out clothes."

Ichabod straightened up. "Right." He nodded and looked back at her. "We need the essentials. I understand."

"Come on, bassinets."

"Yes," Ichabod agreed, and surprised Abbie by slipping his hand into hers. He wasn't big on public displays of affection, never had been. They had gotten caught under the mistletoe at a Christmas office party and Ichabod looked like he was near combustion from having to kiss her. Abbie didn't mind that, she didn't want someone hanging off of her all the time. Besides, Ichabod hung onto her every _word_ , which was better than hanging onto every movement.

Even holding hands, nada. Not so much. He was used to courting by the means of offering his arm, which Abbie found endearing if her day wasn't too trying, but it also procured a lot of strange looks in modern day dating. _But_ Ichabod always managed to open a door for her or pull out her chair when they were out, no matter how many times she protested that she was capable. (And she actually really liked that bit, but she'd never admit it.)

"What do you think about this one?"

Ichabod narrowed his eyes. "I don't, honestly."

Abbie sighed. "Okay, which one do _you_ like? I gave you the brands that I wanted, so we have sections here through-"

"I want to make it."

She stopped. "What?"

Ichabod's furrowed eyebrows deepened. "I would prefer constructing one myself. I imagine they would be much more sturdier than these," he said, gripping the display beneath his fingers, "and there would be no such thing as a ‘call back’. I'm sure anything that I could make with the wood collected from the forest would be far superior than to your... mass produced factory items."

Seriously, now was when he decided to be a prude about the economy? Abbie rolled her eyes. "Come on, Crane, just pick one you like. It cannot be that difficult, every other expecting couple does it."

Ichabod raised his eyebrows. "We are not your average expecting couple," he replied evenly.

 _And_ of course he was right.

"... Fine," Abbie muttered. "You can _try_ ," she added, as his face lit up again, "but if it isn't up to par by an _inch_ , we're buying one of these."

"Very well," he said smugly.

"You have way too much confidence in yourself," Abbie teased.

"Or you lack it for me," Ichabod replied, just as teasingly.

"Uh uh." Abbie shook her head. "Not with you-"

Ichabod gasped. "Look at _that_!" He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her away from the bassinets.

"Ichabod, I told you no clothes!"

 

 

They left with a carrier and a new diaper bag, amongst other new, now essential treasures.

Including a onesie with purple penguins all over it. She blamed Crane for showing it to her in the first place.

 


	16. Starting to Show?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't know if it's wishful thinking or if she's actually getting fat.

She was nervous. She was always nervous, but suddenly, that nervousness was quickly trickling away, replaced by something that was almost... thrill. Eagerness. Excitement.

" _Crane_!"

Abbie licked her lips and stared into the mirror, gently touching her stomach.

"What's wrong?" Ichabod called - it was the number one phrase that ever came out of his mouth these days when she called for him - before opening the bathroom door. "Ah..." He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob when he realized that she was naked. "Sor-"

"You've seen it before. Come here." Abbie held out her hand.

Ichabod closed the door behind him. "What are we hoping to accomplish, Lieutenant?" he asked, joining her by the sink.

"Look." Abbie ran her fingers against her stomach. "Is it really just my imagination or am I getting fat?"

Ichabod blinked. His eyes fell away immediately to her stomach. "I don't believe ‘fat’ is any sort of term I would use to describe you at any time." He gently brushed his fingers against her stomach. "... Perhaps?" He looked at her oddly before sinking down onto his knees, placing both hands against her stomach. "... But what if I've deluded myself into thinking that you are starting to show as well?"

"Then we're both deluded," Abbie muttered, putting her hands over his. "But I think I am. A tiny bit."

Ichabod's eyes flickered back to her face. "... Our baby," he murmured, looking back at her stomach. "... You are going to be perfect," he mumbled, leaning forward to kiss her potential miniscule bump. "Miss Mills is your mother. There is no way that you will not be perfect. You are both perfect."

"Hey..." Abbie laughed nervously, pushing his hair behind his ear. "You're not bad yourself."

"Hmm." Ichabod pulled away from Abbie's stomach. "But you are better."

"We're better _together_ ," Abbie replied.

Because they always had been, right up from the very beginning. Witness One and Witness Two, destined to stop the Apocalypse together, now destined to raise a child in the midst of it all. Abbie didn't delude herself into thinking she was perfect, not in the way that Crane said in the most reverent of tones, but together, she and him might make the closest thing to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Guys. Guys. Guess what next chapter is.)


	17. The Big Reveal: Part Three - You're Having a...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for that highly anticipated ultrasound...

"Any last words?" Abbie asked teasingly.

Ichabod was sitting next to her, nearly trembling in the wait. It wasn't that Abbie wasn't nervous herself, but Ichabod was stock still next to her, back straight, head high, eyes darting around the room where the other pregnant women and their others sat.

"That is _not_ funny," Ichabod replied.

Abbie smiled, leaning her head against against his shoulder. Ichabod didn't respond - that PDA thing again - but she hadn't expected him to. He was more nervous than she was right now. She had come to the first appointment by herself, although looking back on it, she probably shouldn't have. But, remedying it, here he was. And he was nervous as hell.

"It's just an ultrasound, Crane," Abbie replied. "They're not going to hurt me, not going to do anything except put some jelly on my stomach and use it to look at the baby."

Ichabod shifted. "If anything is to be wrong, though, we will find out about it now, correct?"

"Nothing's going to be wrong," Abbie said firmly. Nothing _was_ going to be wrong. Thinking like Crane was wasn't even an option here. She couldn't let herself do that. She had to be optimistic, they both did, like they had said earlier on in the pregnancy. Positive thoughts. Nothing was going to be wrong.

"I know." Ichabod sighed. "I still don't understand how we're going to be able to see the baby by the means of this... jelly and a magic wand."

Abbie laughed. "Magic wand... yeah, let's go with that. It's magic."

Ichabod gave her a semi-dirty look.

"Well, it is," Abbie said softly. "Everything about this, you know? It's surreal. In a good way."

"... Yes," Ichabod replied after a moment. He glanced around briefly before pressing his lips to the top of her head.

Abbie smiled absently and closed her eyes to wait on the nurse to call them in.

Ichabod didn't say anything else to break the silence.

"... Jeez, Crane, would you stop fidgeting?" she muttered, some time later, after he bumped into her head again.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not sure that I should be here, it appears to be a more female-oriented-"

"Miss Mills?"

Abbie sat up quickly, grabbing Ichabod's wrist. "Come on."

They were shown to a room and told the doctor would be right in. One thing Abbie liked about this place; they were on schedule. Of course, she hadn't been here many times to tell, but she already liked the staff. But the doctor did come in quickly, smiling at them both.

"Hi, Abbie. This must be Mr. Ichabod Crane."

Ichabod inclined his head slightly. "Yes. It is my pleasure."

"Doctor Knell, but you can call me Lisa." She stuck out her head.

Ichabod took it slowly. "Miss Lisa."

Lisa laughed. "He really is the way you said he is," she said, looking at Abbie.

Abbie shrugged. "I could not make this stuff up."

"Just a moment, what have you been saying about me?" Ichabod interrupted, following Lisa's gaze to Abbie.

Abbie smiled. "All good things, hun."

Ichabod looked between them. "... I see." His eyes swept around the room, looking at all the equipment.

"He's never seen any of this. First time," Abbie explained, sitting on the exam table.

Lisa nodded. "Pay close attention then, Mr. Crane. You're going to see your baby for the first time in just a moment. You'll be able to hear the heartbeat, too."

"Truly?" Ichabod inquired, looking back at them.

Lisa smiled. "Really truly, Mr. Crane. Alright, Abbie, I need you to lift up your shirt, if you would."

Abbie nodded and rolled her shirt up, forcing back a shiver. It wasn't cold in the office, but... just as much as it was Crane's first time, it was hers, too. For something of _this_ calibre, anyway.

"This is going to be a little cold," Lisa said, before squirting some of the gel onto Abbie's stomach.

"Ah- yeah, that's cold," Abbie muttered.

Ichabod moved a step closer to her, looking between her and the monitor. "Is this going to hurt the Lieutenant? Or the child?"

Abbie wanted to sigh, but Lisa responded in a cheerful, patient voice: "Not at all, Mr. Crane, not at all. You've never seen any of this equipment before, right?"

Ichabod shook his head. "I have not. It is..." he trailed off, clearly searching for something to say that wouldn't sound strange. "... amazing."

Lisa chuckled. "That it is. Alright, a little pressure here, but it's not going to hurt your baby." She pressed the wand down against Abbie's stomach. "And..."

She trailed off as a steady, thrumming noise filled the air.

Abbie held her breath. "Is that...?"

"The heartbeat," Lisa agreed, nodding. "Yes. It's a good, strong heartbeat. And if you'll look here," she said, pointing to the blob on the screen as she moved the wand, "that is your baby."

Abbie let out the breath she'd been holding in a rush. "Oh my God..."

There was a clatter to her left. She looked back at Ichabod quickly. He had taken a hasty step back, colliding with whatever he'd just knocked to the floor. He was stark white.

"Crane-"

"Okay, Mr. Crane," Lisa said expertly, putting the wand down. "Here and sit down, come on. I know it can be a little overwhelming at first," she said, guiding Ichabod to the nearby chair. "This is all new to both of you."

Abbie propped herself up on her elbows. "Hey... Crane." She held out her hand. Part of her was saying that _she_ was the one who ought to be overwhelmed, but the other part had realized how much she had underappreciated Ichabod's entrance into modern pregnancy. This was more than _overwhelming_ for him.

Ichabod met her gaze. "... Yes." He took her hand, and took a deep breath. "What is the gender?" he asked thinly, looking back at Lisa. "Is it possible to tell on this visit?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes, it should be. Give me a moment." She returned to the wand, pressing it back against Abbie's stomach. "Just need to get into position here..." She looked at the screen. "Yeah, as far as I can see here, you are having a baby girl!"

Abbie felt tears well up in her eyes. "... A girl...?" she repeated weakly. Ichabod's fingers tightened around hers and she looked back at him; there were tears in his eyes as well. Abbie was done; she couldn't stand seeing him cry, even if she wasn't all hormonal. "A girl..." It came out choked this time.

Ichabod was instantly on his feet. "Don't cry."

"You're crying!" Abbie retorted, dashing away the tears.

"Because I'm happy," Ichabod stressed.

"I'm happy, too!" Abbie replied. "But you're crying and I'm hormonal and I can't _not_ cry when you're crying."

Ichabod broke into a smile, the first genuine, _not_ -terrified smile since he had gotten here. "A girl," he said. "A baby girl."

Abbie nodded. Seeing the look on Ichabod's face, the marvel of hearing their baby's heartbeat, their _daughter's_ heartbeat... Abbie suddenly understood what it was with all this ‘glowing’ crap. She felt like she was glowing, for the first time since she'd gotten the news.

"Would you like a print-out?"

"Yes," they both replied quickly, and Abbie laughed tearfully. Ichabod leaned over to brush her tears away and ended up kissing her instead.

She - and Ichabod, too - had never been more happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm feeling particularly giving today; it's Christmas, after all. xP


	18. Lama-what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lama _ze_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by both **koali29** and **ellethom** , at the very least. There were multiple requests for Lamaze, and here you go!

Ichabod sighed heavily.

Abbie opened an eye, looking sideways at him. "Come on, Crane." She opened both eyes. "The deep breathing is supposed to be for me."

Ichabod looked a little startled at being acknowledged. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I was sighing so loudly."

Abbie abandoned the deep breathing. "What's wrong?"

Ichabod looked around the room, full of expectant mothers and fathers, and then back at Abbie. "... Do you really have to ask?"

No, she didn't. "Why are you so uncomfortable? This is why everyone is here, Crane. Birthing techniques, what to expect, how to breathe."

"Yes..." His tone was not particularly kind.

Abbie raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing."

" _Crane_ ," Abbie said warningly.

"Just this," Ichabod said abruptly. His restraint had apparently worn out. "These... positions for labor, fake stomachs to simulate a pregnancy, breathing patterns. What exactly is the point of the giant ball over there? I don't intend to be rude; I just don't understand why people of your age seem to think that it's necessary to... do all of this," he said, gesturing.

Abbie was inclined to agree; she hadn't wanted to come to the Lamaze class, but Jenny had talked her into it. She really didn't think she was going to remember how to _breathe_ during labor. The only thing she was going to be thinking about during labor was getting the kid out. As for the different positions to alleviate pain, or make labor smoother... she didn't really put much stock into them. She'd be in a hospital bed, probably screaming her lungs out at Ichabod. (Oh and she could just _imagine_ how that was going to go.)

"Women delivered children in the seventeenth century and before; then, one was lucky to have a midwife and a soft bed, let alone these... bizarre positions to lay or sit. There was no need for instruction, for women were managing it on their own. I understand that pregnancy in the past was perhaps more of a death sentence than it is now; however, it was hardly any more dangerous than some of the things that your people do during this century for pleasure or fun."

Abbie fought a smile. He was right. Of course he was right. Where he wasn't, though, was that things had changed by leaps and bounds since his day. And maybe Abbie didn't believe in this type of Lamaze stuff one way or another, but she did believe there was pain management to be had. Mostly in the vein of taking pain killers, or perhaps having an epidural. (Things she hadn't yet thought too much about, mostly because she knew the argument that would inevitably come up; it went strikingly close to the conversation right now.)

Ichabod looked at her twice when he realized she was staring. "Like I said, I don't mean to cause offense."

Abbie held up her hands. "None taken. I get it. I do. And when the time comes, I'm probably not going to remember any of this. And I'm definitely not going to be sitting on a yoga ball when I'm in labor. But for the benefit of the doubt, you know?"

Ichabod nodded slowly. "You are quite right. Although I fear Miss Jenny will be riled when she hears that neither of us hold Lamaze in very high esteem."

Abbie shrugged. "Hey, we'll tell it went fine and she'll forget about it by the time it's over, anyway."

"Hm." Ichabod's lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

"Alright, Mommies and Daddies!" the Lamaze instructor trilled. "Now we're going to watch a live birth here on our TV." She waved around a DVD case. "If you haven't seen a live birth before, prepared to be amazed. Childbirth is one of the most beautiful things on earth."

This portion of the Lamaze went by in such a fashion of Abbie trying simultaneously not to laugh and not to cringe. She was cringing for the obvious reason - childbirth wasn't beautiful, not from this angle, how on _earth_ was she supposed to push something like Crane's baby out? Mr.-A-Whole-Foot-Taller-than-Abbie-Mills _Crane's_ baby.

But she was trying not to laugh because of Crane's reaction to the video.

He'd stiffened next to her once he realized what exactly the instructor had meant, and had curled infinitesimally towards Abbie when the video started. He was staring in the general direction of the TV, but Abbie had a sneaky suspicion that he was staring at a spot _above_ the TV instead of the actual footage. And he was blushing.

"Was that poor woman aware that her privacy was being so brutally violated?" he demanded thinly.

Abbie had to stifle her laugh into his shoulder.

 


	19. Developmental Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Crane-Mills is on the move, while Ichabod's still struggling to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **tirahsmommy** requested some parallels for Crane between the Crane-Mills baby and Jeremy, so, I tried to work that in a little bit here. ^^ Thank you for the prompt!

"Hey!"

Ichabod looked up as soon as Abbie had spoken, looking curious and surprised and guilty for whatever reason. "What?"

Abbie grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach. She held her breath for a moment. She had definitely felt her kick. _Please do it again, please do it again, little girl..._ And then she did, and Abbie almost jumped and she felt Ichabod jump, too.

"You felt her."

Ichabod stared with wide eyes at her stomach for a moment and then looked up at her, and then back at her stomach again. He didn't say anything, and Abbie felt something akin to irritation rush into her veins. She knew he felt her kick; she'd felt him jump. But now he wasn't saying anything, and Abbie just wanted to be _giddy_ with him.

Ichabod swayed slightly.

"Oh, hey!" Abbie grabbed his shoulders. "Here, here, sit down." She helped him to the nearest flat surface, the snow-dusted brick staircase outside the abandoned house. "Are you alright?" She sat down next to him as he put his head in his hands.

"My apologies," he muttered thickly, his voice obscured by his hands.

"What's wrong?" Abbie rubbed circles with her thumb onto his shoulder. "Hey. Crane? Talk to me, love."

Ichabod took in a breath and let it out slowly. "... I'm fine."

"Then what's all this?" Abbie asked softly. "This is a good moment."

Ichabod breathed in deeply again. "It appears that I get more overwhelmed in good moments than I think I will prior."

"You did this during the ultrasound, too."

Ichabod dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I am fine. But, despite having a grown child of my own, this is all very new to me. Each sensation that you and I feel together is exemplified tenfold, and the looming threat that, somehow, I may perhaps be the same father that I was to Jeremy to our daughter-"

"No," Abbie interrupted. "You won't. First of all, you're already a _great_ father."

Ichabod laughed dryly. "I haven't even finished the bassinet."

"So what?" Abbie retorted. "It's looking great. And I'm only twenty weeks."

"Twenty weeks is almost five months. Your due date is in May."

"It's _okay_ ," Abbie said sternly. "We have time. And just because you haven't finished the bassinet doesn't mean you're going to be a bad father, you've already done so much for this pregnancy. I would not be here without you, all right?"

Ichabod raised his head slightly, enough to raise an eyebrow at her. "Very much not in this predicament without me, I'd imagine."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, there's that, too." She smiled, reaching up to brush a piece of his hair behind his ear. "Look, you're gonna be a great dad, Crane. I know you're thinking about Jeremy, but it won't be like that. Not this time. And don't try to keep all this to yourself. We can share our fears and doubts together."

Ichabod raised his head the rest of the way. "I don't want to worry you."

"You still are." Abbie pressed her shoulder against his. "I'm always worried about you. So let's worry together, okay?"

"Mm." Ichabod slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Very well. We will both be acceptable parents."

"We will," Abbie agreed, pressing her head against his shoulder briefly. "But... it's kind of cold right now, so maybe we could-"

"Oh, right, yes." Ichabod helped her to her feet and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Abbie agreed, and took it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, I've read that mommies feel their babies move first before it can be felt by anyone else, but... shhh. :p)


	20. Prevalence and Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really isn't a myth that pregnant women have to pee all the time.

Abbie loved cuddling.

Really.

It's just... well, it wouldn't be a damn problem if she didn't have to get up every two hours to piss. Okay, maybe it wasn't two hours exactly and it wasn't like it was every day, but Crane didn't seem to realize that she now had something _growing_ inside of her, pressing on other parts of her body, aka, her bladder, and him wanting to get handsy first thing in the morning, or even try to keep her _in_ bed, was a problem.

Damn if she didn't give a valiant effort, though.

Ichabod kissed her softly, all tired eyes and morning breath and his hair in a complete disarray, and it was probably the cutest Abbie had ever seen him. Morning Ichabod was one of her favourites; coupled with romantic Ichabod and Abbie was more or less set for a good morning.

Abbie hummed against his lips and ran her fingers along his shoulderblades absently. "Crane," she muttered when his kisses trailed from her lips to her jaw. She was loathe to interrupt him when he was being all expressive, but come on. Who didn't have to piss first thing in the morning? Pregnant or not, seriously.

Ichabod paid no mind to her, twirling her hair around his fingers as he kissed down to her neck.

"Crane..." Abbie bared her neck reflexively, shivering at the feather light brushes of his lips against her skin. "Come on, I have to get up."

"Mm... five more minutes," he mumbled, latching onto her neck with his lips, pressing his tongue flat against her skin and suckling lightly in what Abbie knew was going to turn into a hickey if she let him get that far. She tried to ignore the flutter of arousal that fluttered through her at the thought; she never brought it up with him because it would sound weird, but she loved it when he left marks on her. Hickeys, or bruises where he held on too tight. She liked him to get caught in the moment.

Just not right now. Ugh, _why_ right now? She couldn't even _focus_ over the throbbing of her abused bladder.

"Come on," she muttered halfheartedly, shifting slightly.

Ichabod hummed against the hollow of her throat, idly running his hand along her arm. "No, please. The bed gets infinitely much less comfortable without you in it."

Abbie smiled. The next thing she knew, Ichabod had locked his arms around her, the world spun and she was pressed flush against his chest and she _had_ to _go_. "Crane!" she snapped, putting her hands against his chest to sit up.

Ichabod's hands jerked away immediately, falling flat back against the pillows with his palms exposed. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Jeez, no," Abbie muttered, frantically getting to her feet. "I've got to pee, I was trying to say-"

Ichabod inhaled. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's not you," Abbie added, and hurried off to the bathroom. It wasn't _his_ fault that _her_ body was being so impossible. Or her hormones apparently, because he'd done drop-dead submissive when she'd snapped at him.

She was really going to have to work on that.

... Not that submissive was a bad thing. Hm.

 


	21. Housing Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod has his cabin, Abbie has her house. But now they're about to have a _baby_. It might be a good time to have that housing conversation.

Abbie bit her lip, wincing as she tasted blood. "Damn it." She gingerly pressed at the sore spot with her finger; it came away speckled red. " _Damn_ it." In actuality, it wasn't her bleeding lip or her nervous tic that she was damning, it was... it was just nerves.

Abbie wrung her hands and fidgeted on the edge of Crane's bed. The water in the bathroom clicked off and she looked up at the closed bathroom door. Any second now-

Ichabod opened the door a minute later, towel wrapped loosely around his waist and water still dripping from his hair. "Oh. Lieutenant." He blinked and then smiled. "What a nice surprise."

"Again with the propriety, Crane. We're dating, I'm pregnant," Abbie said.

Ichabod gave a little _oh_ under his breath and then thought for a moment. "You should have called, for it seems that I just wasted a perfectly wondrous opportunity for a shared shower?" He said it like a question.

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Yes, sad I missed that," she said, letting her eyes purposefully roam across the naked upper half of his body.

"I would ask if you like what you see, but, given the circumstances, I believe I know the answer." He padded past her to his wardrobe, beginning to pick out his clothing.

"Don't be presumptuous, Crane, it's unbecoming," Abbie replied automatically, with a smile, but she knew she was prolonging the inevitable. Best to get it over with. "So, the reason I didn't call, I have a question. It's not really something you ask over the phone."

Ichabod glanced over his shoulder. "About what?"

"Well..." Abbie took a breath. "Look, I'm just gonna say it: d'you want to move in with me?"

Ichabod smacked his hand on the drawer. "Oh-"

"Crane?"

"No worries, I'm fine." Ichabod turned to face her. "You want me to move in with you?"

Abbie smiled hesitantly. "Yes... I mean, of course I do. I just didn't know if you... I don't know, if you wanted to do it now, but with the baby... which we've got to discuss names, by the way," she added. Deflecting again. Seriously, how pathetic could she get? Say what you came here to say, Mills. "I just... yeah, I know my place isn't like here, the cabin's perfect for you but it's not ideal for raising a family-"

"Your home is more than accomodating for both a family, and myself," Ichabod interrupted.

"Really?"

"Wherever you are, Miss Mills, by far exceeds my expectations to begin with."

"Ha. You're overembellishing again, but thanks." Abbie blew out a breath. "... But you're seriously okay with it? I mean, we're not getting rid of this place or anything, but... just staying together. 24/7."

Ichabod looked like he was about to say something, but then stopped. His hands blustered for a moment before settling onto the wardrobe and the knot of his towel. "Yes. Of course."

"What were you going to say?" Abbie demanded.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Ichabod replied simply. "I said what I was going to say." He turned back to the wardrobe, pulling out the shirt he had been reaching for.

"No, you were thinking something else but decided against it."

"No, I wasn't, I assure you. I am completely at ease with moving in with you. I would actually prefer it, believe that if you will," Ichabod added. "My bed is unbearably lonely when you are not in it."

"Uh huh. My bed's just cold."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror.

Abbie stood up, grinning. "Well... if you're sure about this..."

"I am," Ichabod replied. "Moving over will be easy, seeing as how your home is furnished and I have little to account to my name." He glanced around the room.

"Hmm. I always hated moving." Abbie stretched up to kiss him.

Ichabod smiled against her lips. "I cannot hate something I have no experience with," he said when she pulled away. "However, moving into your home seems a blessing. Soon, we will start our family, together."

"Uh huh." Abbie slid her hands down his chest. He was still overly warm from the shower. "You know... it really sucks you wasted that shower."

Ichabod laughed wryly. "And now you are very much in the mood. Trust me, I feel a fool."

Abbie smiled slyly and hooked her fingers under the towel, gently prying it away from his skin. "But I can think of a way to make it less sucky."

"Now I admit to a certain mental debate... Is your word choice a precursor to our soon to occur activities or merely a bad pun?" he asked contemplatively.

"I guess we'll see." Abbie dislodged the rest of the towel and was overtly pleased when Ichabod let it fall to the ground without squabbling about it. She'd asked the hardest question and he seemed, more or less, eager to please.

In more ways than one.

Abbie was ready to leave that awkward conversation behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess that it would be that easy?


	22. The Early Stages of the Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We should plan our baby shower, you know."

"We should plan our baby shower, you know."

Abbie swore that Ichabod just _lit up_ at the sound of planning the baby shower. She thought she was imagining it at first, but then he replied to her, and she knew she hadn't been imagining it at all.

"What kind of theme should we have?" he asked, looking at her excitedly from the passenger seat of her car. "I believe I recall you saying that you didn't want... what was it... ‘pink, frilly, or tutus’?"

Abbie laughed. "Yeah, no, sorry. I mean, no... nothing crazy. I don't care about the colors or anything, really, but I don't want little pink bumblebees with fuzzy antennae or whatever."

Ichabod looked thoughtful.

Abbie recognized the look. _"No_ , I just said _no_ ," she laughed, swatting at his arm.

"It sounds charming." Ichabod shifted. "What about kittens, or puppies, or... some animals of some sort?"

"Like bumblebees."

Ichabod smiled innocently. "That was not what I was intending, no, but perhaps we could have one pink bumblebee, nonetheless. Oh!" He straightened up. "What about lions? Baby lions," he explained, when Abbie looked at him sharply. "Lion _cubs_ , Lieutenant, not vicious ones."

Abbie thought back to the baby store weeks ago, when she had barely glanced over room layouts. She thought she remembered lion cubs, childish version with fuzzy manes and non-threatening smiles. "Like a jungle theme?" she ventured.

If it were possible for him to perk up _any_ more, Ichabod did. "Yes! A jungle. With lions, tigers, and monkeys."

"Oh my," Abbie interjected, but when Ichabod turned to look at her blankly, her amusement dwindled. "Seriously?"

Ichabod frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." Abbie smiled slightly and shook her head. "Nothing, continue. Jungle animals. I think I saw a room set like that at the store, actually. It was cute."

"It's also gender neutral," Ichabod said, "therefore there will be no overabundance of pink for our daughter."

"Okay. We'll give it a solid maybe, we'll have to check the rest of the options when we head back. But we were talking about the shower, Crane, not the room."

"The baby shower has a direct correlation on what theme will be in the nursery," Ichabod replied, like he knew all the world what he was talking about. "For example, if we have a jungle theme, we can tell people that that is our theme and they can buy accordingly. Also, our food could be centered around jungle animals. I have seen amazing photos of cupcakes in the books at the library that look like animals."

"Ooh, cupcakes sound good." Abbie rest her hand briefly on her stomach.

"Miss Mills, I fear you're missing the point-"

"She wants some, too," Abbie said innocently, patting the bump and then moving her hand back to the steering wheel.

Ichabod sighed theatrically, but he hadn't stopped smiling since the conversation had started, really. " _Anyway_ , perhaps we have tablecloths or games involving the jungle as well. Everything must stem off of the nursery, so thus, we must plan the nursery. We need to have another trip to the mall."

"You are way too into this." Not that she minded. She was lost; she would rather just tell Jenny to come over for champagne with orange juice for her. They could just have a get-together that way.

Ichabod let out a breath. "I've never had the experience and modern day baby preparation is much different than in my day. It's very eye-opening. And exciting," he added.

Abbie chuckled. "Okay, Mr. Baby Shower. Try not to wet yourself in excitement."

He huffed. "I will do not such thing, thank you." He turned his attention back to the window for approximately three seconds before inhaling with a soft gasp and turning back to her. "Or we could do an aquatic theme. Tropical fish would be a wondrous entry point into teaching our daughter colors."

Abbie rolled her eyes. She would never admit it, of course, but his enthusiasm was beyond all realms of adorable.

 


	23. A Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Lieutenant. To what do I-"_
> 
> "I think something's wrong!" she blurted.

Abbie frowned slightly, pressing her hand against her stomach.

That hadn't been a the-little-girl's-moving-around kind of pain.

She shook her head slightly, idly caressing her stomach. "Okay, that was weird." She frowned and went back to her paperwork.

She was searching out a new pen ten minutes later after the ink had run out when the pain came again. It was so intense that it nearly knocked the breath out of her; she straightened up and pressed both hands against her stomach. "Come on, baby, what's wrong..." She wasn't kicking, or moving, as far as Abbie could tell. It just felt... off. Wrong, somehow.

Five minutes later, she was in the bathroom hurling lunch because the pain was so intense, and her hands were shaking as she tried to dial Ichabod.

_"Lieutenant. To what do I-"_

"I think something's wrong!" she blurted out, screwing her eyes shut.

There was silence from the other end of the phone before, suddenly, there was a loud thud and what sounded like footfalls as if he was running. _"What's happening? Where are you? Abbie, talk to me."_

"I'm at work," Abbie moaned, pressing her head back against the stall cubicle.

_"What's wrong?"_ There was panic in his voice; if he was trying to conceal it, he was doing poorly. He sounded frantic. If Abbie weren't in so much pain, she'd be frantic, too.

"I don't know, I don't know, I just... I've got cramps, and they-" she broke off with a gasp, hissing through her teeth.

_"Abbie! Abbie, find one of your supervisors. Have them call the hospital. Do you understand?"_

Abbie breathed out through her teeth. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Ichabod..."

_"Damn it,"_ Ichabod swore through the phone, which was the real signal to crisis; he rarely cursed. Not their 'modern day' cursing, anyway. _"Abbie, love, darling, stay with me. Can you find someone? Can you walk?"_

"Mmm, dunno." And she wasn't going to try; she thought she might pass out if she did.

_"Is there anyone else there with you?"_

"No, Crane, it's..." As she was speaking, someone walked into the bathroom. "Oh. Wendy?"

_"Wendy?"_

"Abbie? My God, are you alright?" Wendy asked, pushing the stall door open slightly more; Abbie had never gotten around to closing it the whole way.

_"Give her the phone. Abbie! Pass over the phone,"_ Ichabod demanded in her ear.

Abbie did so blindly, wrapping both of her arms around her stomach. She didn't know what Crane was saying to Wendy, but she didn't care. She just wanted this to be done with, she wanted the pain to be gone, she didn't want anything to be the matter with their _baby_.

Wendy had put the phone on speaker.

_"Abbie, my love, this lovely woman is calling for your mobile doctors. I'm on my way to the precinct now. Abbie? I love you. Everything is going to be fine. Okay? You know that, right?"_

And Abbie would believe him, if she wasn't feeling the pain and hearing the downright _terror_ hiding beneath the tone of his voice. She just wanted to curl up and cry.

_"Abigail! Talk to me!"_

Abbie snapped her eyes open. She was vaguely aware of Wendy being on her phone, Abbie's phone resting in her own hand somehow. "... You never call me Abigail," she mumbled, and tightened her grip on the phone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't except me to shove all of this into one chapter, did you?


	24. We Need to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about this chapter was prompted by an **Anonymous** , but I have to admit that I don't remember what. ^^'' I know I wrote down anon by this chapter, so particular Anon, if you're reading, I hope you remember what you wanted.
> 
> Here you all go!

Abbie rest her head against Ichabod's, staring up towards the ceiling of her bedroom. She wasn't asleep despite being exhausted and emotionally drained, and Ichabod's breathing beside her wasn't deep enough for him to be asleep, either. Their hands were clasped beneath the blankets, although the usual movement of Ichabod's thumb over the back of her knuckles was absent.

"... Ichabod..."

Ichabod's head moved against hers, tilting towards her slightly.

"I think we need to talk," Abbie mumbled, still staring at the ceiling. "About the baby. About me."

Ichabod stiffened slightly, but still he didn't move or speak.

 _"You are_ quite _sure that nothing is amiss? I do not claim to be the foremost person to go to for medical advice, much less with pregnancy, but Abbie-"_

_"Mr. Crane," the doctor interrupted firmly, "I understand your concern-"_

_"_ That _would be immensely empathetic of you, given how you are currently_ not a parent _," Ichabod muttered._

_Abbie grabbed Ichabod's arm roughly._

_"Abdominal cramps are not unheard of anywhere from twenty-three weeks to full term," the doctor explained. "Your baby is starting to shift position, Miss Mills can experience Braxton Hicks at any time now; her body is changing in preparation for labor. Pre-term labor can begin. Thankfully, that was not the case. As we saw, your baby is, as far as we can tell, completely healthy."_

_Ichabod curled his fingers around Abbie's hand firmly, the other hand curled into a tight fist at his side. "As far as you can tell."_

_"Mr. Crane, there are other, more extensive tests that we can run, but each test comes with new possible complications."_

_"No," Abbie said, breaking her silence. "No, no tests unless it's necessary. Ichabod." Ichabod looked down at her. "I'm fine, really," she said weakly, smiling slightly. "I just panicked. Overreacted. I knew this stuff could happen, we both did."_

_Ichabod didn't look satisfied, but he crouched down to her level to press his forehead against hers. "Nothing is an overreaction with our child._ Nothing _, Abbie."_

_Abbie smiled tiredly and closed her eyes. She just wanted to get home._

"We knew there were... all these complications that could come up," Abbie said. "That's just a part of pregnancy... and maybe I overreacted and maybe I didn't, but then you went to pieces and I got to thinking-"

"I did not go to pieces."

Abbie flicked her gaze towards him. "Because you have a defensive attitude all the time. I've never heard you talk like to anyone. Not that I mind," she added, squeezing his fingers. "I mean, this _is_ the thing to get defensive about, but... I just mean, if something goes wrong, or even if something happens to me..."

Ichabod finally melted from his stone-like position; he started shaking his head, left to right against his pillow and her hair, even before Abbie had stopped talking.

"Come on, Crane, we've got to face the possibility-"

"No, we do not," Ichabod interrupted sharply.

"What are you going to do if, God forbid, something happens during labor and I don't come out of it, huh? I want your word that you're going to be able to keep yourself together and take care of our daughter, Crane."

Ichabod's hand jerked away from hers suddenly. He rolled over onto his side, staring towards the wall instead of towards the ceiling.

Abbie glared at his back. " _That_ is not reassuring."

"I don't wish to have this conversation."

"Well, we are!" Abbie retorted. "It doesn't matter if I'm here or not, this is still our daughter and you need to _tell me_ that you're capable of taking care of her. Or if something happens and we don't get good news like we did this time, that you're going to be there with me and not enclosed off in your own little world of-"

"I've already had to experience losing the woman that I loved most deeply in my past, don't make me contemplate losing the two most cherished people in my present!"

Abbie blinked, unsure if she was more surprised by the fact that Ichabod had just raised his voice to her or the raw emotion in his voice.

"... Crane." Abbie sighed, propping herself up on her elbow. "Hey. 'm sorry, I don't want to upset you, I just..." she trailed off, resisting the urge to sigh again. She propped her chin against his shoulder. "It's just been a long day."

Ichabod's eyes were open, something akin to a glare as he stared off towards the wall. It would have had more effect if there weren't tears in his eyes.

"... Sorry," Abbie mumbled.

Ichabod blew out a breath, eyelashes fluttering down to ghost his cheeks. "No. Forgive me," he muttered, thumbing away tears. "It was most improper for me to speak to you in such a tone." He carefully shuffled over onto his back again, wrapping his arms around Abbie. "It has indeed been a long day."

Abbie rest her head against his chest, listening to his pounding heart under her ear. "We're okay, Ichabod. All three of us."

Ichabod hummed, freeing up his hand to splay his fingers over Abbie's stomach. "I would do anything for the two of you, if that means anything, Lieutenant."

"I know you would." Abbie placed her hand over his. "I know you would."

 


	25. The Nursery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have just about as much fun preparing the nursery as you think they might. (Hint: there's a paint fight.)

They went with an underwater theme.

Abbie loved the jungle theme just as much, but there was something oddly satisfying about painting a little girl's room light blue. Gender specific, her ass. She liked blue over pink herself, although purple and green were her favorite colors.

"I _really_ enjoy this," Ichabod said, peeling a wall decal away from its plastic packing. "The advancements in this century, producing these wall clings that can be moved at will."

"It saves time on painting," Abbie pointed out, although she was currently trying to scrub a mark where Ichabod had had a less than fortunate time with the crib from the wall. "We've still got some stenciling to do, by the crib."

"Yes," Ichabod replied, smoothing the decal of a tropical orange fish onto the wall. "We have the paint decals for bubbles and the nondescript school of fish downstairs."

"Those nondescript school of fish are tiny and adorable," Abbie replied, standing up. "Ugh, my back is killing me." She said it mostly to herself, pressing her hand against the small of her back.

Ichabod, naturally, heard her. "I insist that you sit down, Miss Mills." He abandoned the wall decals in order to smooth his hand down her back. "Do you need a massage?"

"Oh, no." Damn if he didn't have talented hands, though. "It gets difficult to relax when you can't really lay on your stomach anymore."

Ichabod was lost in thought a moment. "What about a hot bath? Perhaps that would-"

"Crane, I'm fine." Abbie reached up to pat his cheek. "It's just a part of the pregnancy. How about you get the rest of the clings on and I'll grab the decals and paint from downstairs?"

Ichabod sighed but nodded. "Very well. I'll need the paintbrush."

"Be right back," Abbie said, rubbing absently at her back as she went to gather the painting supplies.

"Alright," she said, upon re-joining Ichabod a few minutes later, "here's the paint, I just put some on the plate since these are small." She handed over the brush and the decals. "Do you know where we stashed that stuff for the bassinet?"

It had only been last week that Ichabod had finally called her excitedly from the cabin to tell her that he had finished the bassinet. It was one of the only reasons he'd been going out to the cabin since he'd moved in with her and, while Abbie was secretly worried how he was going to cope with not having a reason to _go_ tothe cabin, she was glad that he had finally gotten it done. She hadn't doubted him, it was just... yeah. It was just.

But it was beautiful, and from first glance Abbie was positively thrilled that he had talked her into letting him do it himself. In fact, she had made up a pathetic excuse about having to pee (okay, not a terrible excuse in her state) so that she could lock herself in the bathroom and try not to cry because it was so beautiful.

"It's in there." Ichabod pointed to the closet. "It's under the bag of plush animals."

"Thanks."

"How is that?"

Abbie glanced over Ichabod's shoulder. "Aww, that's adorable, Crane."

Ichabod smiled and sat back. There was paint in his hair. "Yes. Yes, I think so." He smiled over his shoulder. "I do believe that our daughter will enjoy sea turtles."

Abbie laughed. "Okay, come up here. I want to kiss you and it's a huge pain in the ass for me to get down there."

Ichabod pushed himself up from the floor. "That statement brooks no complaints."

"Of course not." Abbie leaned over and pressed her lips against his softly. "Thank you. It looks lovely."

"All for you and our little dove."

Abbie pulled back. "Our... Our what?"

"... Oh!" Ichabod pulled back. His cheeks were a little pink. "I just... since my last name is Crane, and not to sound dismissive of the Mills name, I made the connection to different kinds of birds and... ‘dove’... But we don't, I mean, that is to say-"

Abbie smiled. "Our little dove," she interrupted his babbling, caressing her stomach. "I like it."

Ichabod smiled shyly. "Good."

"God, you're adorable," Abbie said, tracing the line of his jaw. "You've got paint, though," she added, picking at the green in his hair. It was still wet and it streaked against her fingers.

"Oh, I've noticed." Ichabod ran his fingers through his hair. "It was foolish to not tie my hair back before beginning this endeavour."

Abbie was struck with a mischievious idea and reached up, smearing the green paint against his face.

"Miss Mills!"

Abbie burst out laughing when he tried to wipe it off and only suceeded in smearing it further.

"Oh. Now it's on," Ichabod said coyly. He raised an eyebrow and reached for the plate of paint.

Abbie, still laughing, took that as her cue to high-tail it out of there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delays; my muse for this fandom has more or less filtered out with my enthusiasm for a renewal of this. ;-; I'm struggling through though; can't abandon this one. Bear with me, please. ^^''


	26. Baby Shower Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good, until it's bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by **Angelica**... albeit it's another one of those cases that I can't remember what you actually prompted but I had your name written down next to the prompt, so I hope you know and I hope you like it! :D (Pretty sure no one prompted a certain bit of this chapter... that was all me... but nonetheless... Angelica, hope you like it, yes.)

They had cupcakes with octopuses (octopi? She and Crane had had an argument about it up until this morning), sea turtles, and fish made out of fondant on top. They had aquatic plastic tablecloths and balloons and, while there hadn't been _real_ seafood, Jenny had taken to calling the snacks _fish food_.

It wasn't meant to be a huge affair, but Jenny had invited everyone from the precinct and, while all of them didn't show, some of them did. For example, Luke, which Abbie found awkward and Ichabod didn't seem to enjoy much at all.

They received hooded bath towels that looked like whales, or bath mitts that had fish faces on them. And then a sea turtle bath pouf because who didn't need one of those? Reyes had brought an embroidered baby blanket with all underwater sea creatures and Abbie and Ichabod both were grinning like idiots when Reyes had said that she'd embroidered it herself. ( _"Hidden talents,"_ Ichabod had whispered into Abbie's ear, and she swatted his chest but agreed.)

Jenny had gotten them a set of pillows for the room, as well as a mobile for the crib, and then a photo frame for the first handprints and footprints. The sentimental gifts touched Abbie in ways that she'd rather not contemplate; in just three months, the simulated hand and footprints on the frame would be replaced with her and Ichabod's daughter's hand and footprints. It was still a bizarre thought, but so very real.

Someone was kind enough to buy them diapers and wipes, a girl that was newer at the precinct that Abbie was a little guilty to say that she didn't remember her name. And there were plenty of clothes, some according to the theme and some not.

Ichabod nearly fell right off of his chair in his haste to inspect a miniature Revolutionary soldier's outfit meant specifically for one to three months; also a present from Jenny, one she hadn't given them until everyone else had left.

"Train her well, Crane," Jenny said cheerfully. "I figured no one else would get the joke, so I waited to give it to you until now."

"But..." Ichabod was gaping, still holding onto the miniature uniform. "We've having a girl-"

"Don't you go all sexist on me right now, Mr. Only Men Fight in Wars," Jenny retorted, although Abbie could tell it was playfully, "or I'll take that right back to the store that I had to special order it from."

"No!" Ichabod swept it out of Jenny's reach. "I simply mean... thank you. Immensely. I adore it. Our daughter will look most... dashing."

Abbie chuckled and leaned back against the wall. She was happy and everything, but she was dog-tired. Maybe it was the baby shower, maybe it was the whole pregnancy. Just when she thought she couldn't get any more tired, she somehow did. Three more months and she'd be a lump under the blankets.

"Thanks so much, Jenny, really," Abbie said, gripping her arm. "You don't have to buy all this stuff."

"And not spoil my niece? Please." Jenny smiled and pulled her into a hug first, and then Ichabod. "Really, congratulations. Again. Let me know if you need anything."

Abbie smiled and hugged her back and saw her on her way.

"This was fun," Ichabod commented, stacking up the congratulations cards into a pile. "It was beyond a strange event, but it was enjoyable nonetheless."

Abbie smiled tiredly. "Uh huh."

Ichabod glanced up and then, abandoning the cards, took her face in his hands gently. "You look exhausted."

"I am exhausted."

"Don't make Miss Mills exhausted, little one," Ichabod said, dropping his gaze to Abbie's stomach. He was growing into the habit of talking to her stomach. Relentlessly. "Your mommy must keep up her strength for both of you, you know?"

Abbie winced when their little dove kicked her hard, as though responding to the sound of Ichabod's voice. "Ouch. Ow. She's definitely taking in something you're saying," she said, smoothing her hand over the bump. "Either that, or she's hopped up on sugar." She only just bit back the wince when another kick came. " _Jeez_ , now she's playing havoc on my bladder. Make up your mind!" That she directed towards the baby, and when she looked up, the corner of Ichabod's mouth was lifted into a smile. "Oh, stop smiling!" That, of course, only made him smile more. Abbie huffed. "You try having to make a dash to the bathroom every ten minutes," she said, turning away to head for said bathroom.

On her way back, the receptionist of the party hall stopped her. "Oh, Miss Mills! Someone left a card here for you earlier."

Abbie glanced up, frowning. "Who? The party just ended, why didn't they bring it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He said something about not being able to stay, so he asked me to give it to you."

Abbie shrugged. "Okay then. Thanks." She took it and headed back to the party room. "'nother card, Crane," she said, waving it.

Ichabod looked up. "From who?"

"I don't know. They left it with the receptionist for some reason." She slid her thumb under the paper as Ichabod joined her. "Maybe it's..." she trailed off, pulling out the paper on the inside of the envelope.

It wasn't a card at all, but a picture.

Of their sonogram.

Abbie felt her entire body turn to ice. She stared at the picture numbly, knowing full well that they hadn't given a copy to anyone, _anyone_ , not even Jenny. She flipped the heavy cardstock over, nausea blooming in the pit of her stomach.

_Congratulations on your new baby girl._  
 _Looking forward to meeting her in person. x_

Abbie stared at the sprawling handwriting for a few, long seconds.

Ichabod suddenly tore himself from her side, striding determinedly to the door. There was fire in his eyes.

"... He's long gone," Abbie muttered numbly.

And it didn't matter that it wasn't signed, because there were only a few people that could have - or _would_ have - gone so far as to get a copy of their sonogram from somewhere. Abbie knew. So did Ichabod. It was either Henry, or one or Moloch's other minions.

"He will not harm our daughter," Ichabod said lowly. The threat in his voice was absolute; Abbie had never heard him talk like _that_ , either. "He'll go through both of us before he lays a finger on her."

"That's probably his plan," Abbie said, throwing the picture aside.

Ichabod turned his gaze away from the window and towards her. It melted from the glare to something more determined, if that was possible, but much more gentle. He crossed the room and pulled Abbie into his arms, his arms so much constricting as though not to let go as it was an embrace. "Don't worry, Abbie. I'll take care of you. Both of you."

Abbie knew that, knew that he was good for his word and the sentiment behind it. But she could also feel like tense he was beneath her arms and she knew that, whatever he said, he was worried, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I wrote this before the S2 mid-season finale. But, you know, if there's no Moloch... well, you've seen where the show has gone itself. So, yes, pre Moloch's demise!


	27. For Baby Mills-Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's their little girl's father. If he can't protect her before she's out of the womb, how's he going to manage after?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lovely **anonymous** that left this idea in a comment. I _instantly_ fell in love with it, thank you thank you thank _you_ , anon. I loved this idea and, while this chapter is short, I hope it lives up to your expectations!

"Crane?"

Abbie stepped into the bedroom, rubbing the towel against her wet hair. She had heard him come upstairs, but she didn't know where he had gone in the meantime.

He'd been all out of sorts all day, even since the baby shower last night. He'd nearly gone as far as begging Abbie to _please, take a personal day, Miss Mills, just today, at least, please_. She had, but that was at least partly because she was still rattled, too. But he had been deviating between dogging her every step or avoiding her entirely, puttering around the house with his eyes glued to the window. She had gone to get a shower early because she thought that if she hadn't, she would have ended up snapping at him to calm the hell down.

She tossed the towel onto the bed and was just about to head downstairs when she noticed the nursery door was open. "Crane?" She meandered around the corner, stopping in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

Ichabod was sprawled out on the floor, on his stomach and elbows, staring intently at the legs of the crib. There was something in his hand. He didn't look up at Abbie.

"Hey." Abbie crossed the room, staring down at the top of his head. "What are you doing?" she repeated.

Ichabod still didn't look up. "I'm taking precautions," he said shortly.

She wasn't about to get anything out of him this way, Abbie realized, and painstakingly lowered herself to the floor. "Oh, God, this had better be good. And you're helping me back up." She followed his determined gaze, slowly realizing that the thing in Ichabod's hand was a pen knife and he was hacking away at one of the legs of the crib.

"Crane!" She grabbed at his wrist, pulling his hand away. "What are you doing? No, _seriously_ , what the hell are you doing?"

Ichabod didn't struggle against her grip. "I'm taking precautions," he repeated, staring dully at the crib leg.

"By carving into the crib? What is that, anyway?" Abbie squinted at the marks etched expertly into the wood. She had thought they were just squiggles, but they looked less like squiggles and more like...

"Runes," Ichabod replied dully. "They're protection runes. If you believe in such things."

Abbie stared at the runes for a moment before looking at him. "Are you... of course you are." She sighed and let go of his hand. "Ichabod..."

"It isn't going to harm her." Ichabod twisted the knife between his fingers and didn't look up. "If anything, it'll help and assistance is what we need right now."

Abbie shook her head slightly, rubbing at his shoulder. "Well."

Ichabod turned his head slightly towards her. "Yes?"

"It isn't going to help if you don't finish it," Abbie pointed out, nodding to the half-finishing engraving.

Ichabod met her gaze a long moment. There was determination and sadness and worry embedded in his eyes and skin. But then he nodded once and turned back to the runes, picking up where he had left off.

It killed her back to sit on the floor like this, not to mention she couldn't get up on her own now, but she didn't have a desire to get up right now, anyway. She watched Ichabod carve the runes into the wood determinedly, feeling a mixture of worry and pride herself. Worry because of the obvious, but pride because of Ichabod.

She just silently watched him and rubbed at his back absent-mindedly, thinking that Moloch trying to get at them was only going to make them more determined still.

 


	28. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They contemplate baby names. Abbie meets a lovely elderly couple. Ichabod has the best ideas. No one has trouble with the ice machine.

"I find ‘Alexandria’ to be nice."

"Alexandria Mills-Crane? It's kind of a mouthful, and that's without a middle name."

"Hmm. How about the name ‘Spring’, since she's going to be born in May?"

"But she was conceived some time in September. We could just as pick ‘Autumn’ or something, but I don't really want a name like that."

"I'm _attempting_ to be... modern. What was it that you suggested earlier?"

"Which one, Anthea or Kathleen?"

"Anthea... Anthea... Ath... Athe... Athena?"

"Athena Mills-Crane?" Abbie tapped her pen against the table. "That's... different. Uh, not really modern, though."

Ichabod shifted. "I'm sorry; I grew up with names wholly different to yours-"

"It's not a bad thing," Abbie added quickly. "What about ‘Shelly’?"

Ichabod made a face like he'd taken a bite of a lemon, although Abbie knew that she wasn't intended to see it. "It's... nice," he said slowly.

"You can tell me you hate it, Crane, this is your kid, too."

Ichabod sighed softly. "It is impossible for me to hate anything you think up, Lieutenant, but I admit I'm not fond. ... Nora? Or Joanne?"

Abbie played with the names in her head. "Ummm... Joann _a_?"

Ichabod nodded. "That's pleasing as well."

"Molly? Emma? Any suggestions here, Crane."

"I don't know." Ichabod fidgeted. "It has to be perfect. This is worse than naming the stray cat that used to visit my cabin."

Abbie huffed a laugh. "We need a baby name book."

"No!" Ichabod replied quickly, much to her surprise. "No, I wish to come up with our child's name without aid of a book stating how popular certain combinations of letters are."

" _O_ kay." Abbie held up her hands. "Suggestions, then."

"Katherine?" Ichabod ventured slowly. "Or... Elizabeth? Although, those are old-fashioned."

"That's fine, Crane. I told you that. I actually really like Katherine. Kate, for short?"

"Katherine Mills-Crane?"

Abbie nodded and jotted it down. "I like it. We'll put it on the list, too."

"I've heard the name ‘Jodi’ used a female name," Ichabod said slowly. "With an ‘i’ instead of a ‘y’. That's a shortened name that's suitable. Juliette? With two ‘t’s and an ‘e’ on the end? It's reminiscent of the past but yet still... modernized?"

Abbie nodded.

"Oh! Martha."

"We are _not_ naming our daughter after George Washington's wife," Abbie laughed, tossing a piece of her cheeseburger bun at him.

Ichabod leaned out of the way, smiling. "I merely jest."

Abbie shook her head, grinning. "Ah well. We'll think of it some more later." She took a bite of her cheeseburger, swiping mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth. "Bud I eally nike dum o em."

Ichabod stared at her blankly.

Abbie swallowed and reached for her orange soda. "I _said_ , I really like some of these."

"Oh." Ichabod raised his eyebrows.

Abbie licked her lips. "I said I was hungry." She took another drink and then held out the paper cup to Ichabod. "Get me a refill, will you?"

Ichabod sighed patiently and took it from her. "And yet you ponder over the increased need to visit the lavatory."

"Nope, I don't ponder it, I know why, and I also know that I'm thirsty, and that this cheeseburger is far, _far_ superior to the salad you're picking over." She jabbed her finger towards his half finished salad and pointedly took a bite of her burger.

Ichabod shook his head in mock disappointment. "Leave my salad out of this argument, Miss Mills. Much more of this and you shall be suggesting naming our daughter ‘Cheeseburger’."

Abbie gasped theatrically, grabbing for her pen. "That is a _great_ idea, Crane, we just settled it, that's it!" She mimed writing it down on the napkin.

Ichabod rolled his eyes, but he was beaming as he turned away.

"Looks like you've got a keeper," commented a voice behind her.

Still smiling, Abbie glanced over her shoulder and found an elderly husband and wife smiling at her fondly.

"Haha... yeah," Abbie glanced towards Crane (who was staring at the pop machine with far too much concentration for a normal person). "Yeah, he's a good one."

"You're lucky, young lady," the elderly man said. "Don't get many of those in a lifetime. I found mine when I was thirty-five, haven't had a thought 'bout no one since." He patted his wife's hand.

Abbie gave a little _huh_ under her breath and turned back to the table when Ichabod rejoined her.

"What's this?" Ichabod asked, glancing between Abbie and the man and woman she had just been talking to. "Have I missed a conversation?"

Abbie shook her head. "Nah. Thanks," she added, plunking her straw back into the soda.

"You're most welcome," Ichabod said happily.

Abbie watched him as he went back to forking his salad. Was that going to be him and her one day? In their nineties, still together? She wondered. She hoped, actually.

Ichabod was looking at her again. "Lieutenant?" he asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

Abbie shook herself. "Hm? Did you figure out the ice machine alright this time?" She picked up her cheeseburger again.

Ichabod was waylaid; "yes!" he exclaimed. "I've mastered the art. Besides, it was only _once_ that the ice went everywhere, how was I supposed to know that the supply was unlimited to a point?"

"... Maybe because your cup overflew with ice and spat it out all over the floor?"

Ichabod rolled his eyes and launched into an explanation of why the ice machine incident had - most definitely - _not_ been his fault. (Abbie smiled and laughed effortlessly at all the right parts. It was her fifth time having this conversation with him and it still didn't cease to be funny.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous references to my other fandoms abounds. Don't worry, I do have the name picked out and it is not Cheeseburger.


	29. Conversations with Baby Mills-Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod has a conversation with Baby Mills-Crane.
> 
> If anyone else was watching it: Ichabod has a one-sided conversation with Abigail Mill's stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by someone as well as something I wanted to do personally, so huzzah! It's been a long time coming. Hopefully, most of the people are still following this story and haven't poofed out like I did for awhile. ^^' I hope you're still there~ xP
> 
> [Also, this chapter was written _before_ Katrina went batshit crazy. Also keep in mind, in my verse, she died a long time before even Ichabod and Abbie got together.]

Abbie was exhausted.

To be fair, it was partly Crane's fault. He loved to watch all these old documentaries on TV, reminiscing on what they got right and complaining about what they got wrong. Or war movies of any kind, they seemed to hit him hard, and he'd stay curled up against her side all night long, in a deep trance, if they were good enough. (Sometimes, there were nights when Ichabod didn't sleep because of those movies, too lost in his own thoughts, and those were the nights that Abbie hated herself for letting him watch stuff that brought up bad memories.)

Those nights happened rarely, though; tonight was one of the good nights. Abbie had had her shower and had curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and the remote control. When Ichabod had joined her from his shower, smelling all soft and fresh and of his body wash, Abbie had already finished her tea and was hopelessly bored with the rom-com she was watching. She relinquished control of the remote and watched idly as Crane put it on the documentaries and sprawled out across the couch, resting his head on her lap. Abbie absentmindedly played with his hair until she was nodding off herself, and then she propped her head up on her hand and tried to stay awake over the documentary. She failed.

When she woke up, it was to someone speaking softly. It wasn't the TV, it was too close, and Abbie wearily pulled her eyes open to see who Crane was talking to (because she subconsciously knew that it was Crane speaking, it had to be).

"Had I known my fate then, well, perhaps I would have chosen differently." Ichabod paused. "Well, probably not. I was rather infatuated with the idea of Katrina's way of life at the time, while I admit that Katrina herself had something to do with it. I rather wish you could have met her. For all of her faults, she loved like no other I have known. Besides your mother, of course."

Ichabod's head was still on Abbie's lap, but he wasn't looking at the TV. Instead, he had shuffled over so his back was to it, and instead, he was interested with Abbie's ever-growing stomach.

Abbie realized that Ichabod was having a conversation with their daughter.

She decided then that she wasn't going to admit she was awake. Instead, she let her eyes flutter shut and tried to keep her breathing steady.

"It's humorous... I thought that there was no one on this earth for me and yet I found her in Katrina. Then I came to this new, strange land and found myself lost in a world that was not my own, and even the likes of a witch whom I loved could not pull me from its grasp. But then there was your mother. I didn't know if I thought she was crazy, or I, the first time we met. It was rather a toss-up," Ichabod said contemplatively, laughing lightly. "It all seemed so strange. Katrina seemed so far away, but Abbie was there, and I never had a moment's worry because she was."

"To be honest, I never realized my intentions towards your mother until Katrina called me out on them. For all of my trials, I had never realized that I held Abbie too closely when we embraced, that I vowed things to her that I had never vowed my own wife." He let out a breath while Abbie mulled that over. "Katrina told me, when she was dying, that she had seen from the very beginning. I had changed, because of Abbie. And I am glad, for if I had not, we would not be here today."

Fingers lightly brushed her stomach and Abbie opened her eyes out of reflex. Ichabod didn't notice, just gently brushed his fingers against her shirt, seemingly transfixed.

"It was a long time ago that I fell in love with your mother, but I was too devoted to see it on my own. When I did, it was so blindingly obvious... but, ah, I suppose our love story could be more romantic. It's... almost tragic, actually, the circumstances that brought us together. I wouldn't change it for the world," Ichabod added, "but nonetheless. You needn't worry about such things. The most trouble that you will have to go through to find your prince will be needing to get through Abigail and I. I will warn you in advance that I will increasingly be at odds with whatever boy you decide to choose, for none will be as good for you as you will be for him."

Abbie couldn't help but smile. She wanted to _aww_ and simultaneously playfully swat at him, but she did neither, because she was too busy being a snoop to want to ‘wake up’ just yet.

"You're going to be strong, and dedicated, and determined to a point where it's a little bit frightening, sometimes," Ichabod said, ruefully. "You're going to be just like your mother in that regard, I'd imagine, so you probably won't have much trouble finding the perfect match because you're going to be intelligent in your decisions. But from me, I hope you get... well, I'm not sure I know my good qualities, do I? I'd like to think I'm loyal, but perhaps that's to a fault." Ichabod shifted a bit. "Dedicated, too, I believe, but loyalty and dedication is kind of the same thing."

Ichabod trailed off, and then sighed. "Well, the point is, you should take after your mother because I, apparently, have little to no good qualities that you should try to glean."

Abbie laughed. She knew it would blow her cover, but she couldn't help it. Ichabod's resigned tone of voice, just giving the fight in goodness over to Abbie; be like your mother because she's so clearly better than me! She couldn't help but laugh. When she opened her eyes this time, Ichabod was staring up at her critically, his neck starting to flush when he met her gaze.

"Abbie!" he exclaimed. "You've been awake!" He scrambled to sit up, perched on the edge of the sofa like he was about to bolt. "It is beyond impolite to eavesdrop."

Abbie smiled, reaching over to take his face in her hands. "You are kind, and loyal, _and_ dedicated. You're accepting and intelligent and you love unconditionally. You have an open mind, and an open heart, and you also have the ability to look adorable while being completely serious and the innate ability to make hormonal, pregnant woman says lots of really stupidly mushy stuff."

Ichabod's face was blazing by the time she'd finished speaking, and while he didn't pull away, he averted his gaze to the side. "... That's all and well," he murmured, "but you were still eavesdropping on a private conversation."

Abbie laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Between you and the baby in _my_ stomach?"

Ichabod huffed slightly, but moved only enough to place either of his hands on either side of her stomach. "Babies can hear within the womb. I was telling her... things."

"Like about Katrina and how we met and how we're going to do background checks on her boyfriends when she's old enough?" Abbie teased.

"Mmm." Ichabod stroked her stomach lightly. "Yes. You already knew that, though."

Abbie smiled, leaning back against the couch. "I did. And, like I said, it was adorable. And very sweet. He's very sweet," she added, looking down at her cradled stomach. "Don't let his show of bravado make you think any differently. He's a lover, not a fighter."

"Beg pardon." Abbie looked up. "I am both a lover _and_ a fighter," Ichabod said, raising an eyebrow. "And I quite talented at both, if I may say so myself."

Abbie snorted in laughter. "Score one on the ‘not humble’ card. Way to teach our daughter."

"You are teaching her about eavesdropping!" Ichabod replied earnestly, and Abbie dissolved into giggles again.

By the time that they were snuggled up in bed together, Abbie had told their daughter about Ichabod's very first experience with the shower in the 21st century (whilst Ichabod had groaned and said _"I knew I should have never told you about that!"_ ), Ichabod had repaid her in kind by speaking of Abbie catching the flu last winter and going whiny on Ichabod being he wouldn't make her chicken noodle soup like she wanted ( _"Because it's full of sodium, Abbie, I was going to make it homemade, if you could wait an extra fifteen minutes!"_ ), and they both had recounted (and created another) argument over sales tax, which Ichabod vehemently loathed and Abbie said was just natural in their century.

Baby Mills-Crane started kicking at some point, and Abbie was fairly sure that they fell asleep with both of their hands over her stomach, although she was snuggled into Ichabod's chest by the time that she woke up in the morning.

 


	30. And the Award for Bad Timing Goes to...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod was old fashioned.
> 
>  
> 
> He'd been thinking about it since the beginning, really, but he had never worked up the nerve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because it's officially Monday, the 23rd, and the finale is on later tonight, here's a new chapter!

"I understand things have changed since my day, but I was hoping traditional would still be considered acceptable."

"Uh huh." Abbie tossed the magazine aside. She was getting increasingly frustrated by the lack of a position to get comfortable in; she wanted a back rub and was contemplating if she wanted it now rather than later.

"I love you dearly. You understand that, correct?"

Abbie smiled faintly, squirming on the sofa. "Yes, I've been made aware. Several times. And I love you, too, Crane, although I don't love the crap that's ravaging my body with this pregnancy." She rubbed at her ribcage idly. Baby had kicked the breath right out of her earlier. She wondered if she had bruises. Literally.

"I would say I'm sorry... but I'm not."

"Yeah." Abbie pressed her back into the sofa.

"So..."

"Uh huh?"

Ichabod paced the length of the room, and then turned and walked back the way that he had just walked. "Um."

Abbie rubbed her forehead. "Crane, if you're gonna pace the floor, do it off the rug. We can't really afford a new one right now. Or just stop pacing, you're making _me_ dizzy."

"I'm attempting to think," Ichabod muttered.

"About what?" Abbie asked absently. She was starting to get a headache. Maybe she'd just take some ibuprofen and go to bed early. She wasn't even hungry for dinner.

Ichabod stopped in the middle of the living room. "... You are making this very difficult, Lieutenant."

Abbie sighed. "Making what difficult, Crane?"

_"Ugh."_ Well, that was uncharacteristic of him, Abbie thought idly, but what was even more uncharacteristic was the fact that Ichabod seemed to abandon all sense of tact and then sank down onto one knee.

Abbie froze.

"I had _planned_ to do this with a bit more finesse, but I'm afraid that I've rather lost the words." Ichabod fumbled in his pocket for a moment before producing a velvet box.

"Icha-" What the hell did he think he was doing? _Proposing_ to her? Where in the acual _hell_ did that even _come_ from? "You-"

"Merely know that I love you, and our daughter, and know that I would do anything for you-"

"What are you doing."

Ichabod stopped, looking up at her. "... What?"

Abbie frowned. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

Ichabod fidgeted. "I'm... uh, trying to... pr-propose to you."

" _Why?_ "

The nervousness in Ichabod's eyes changed slightly, now to confusion. "... I'm _fairly_ sure that one proposes in this day for the same reason that they proposed in my day? Have I misinterpreted the assumption?"

"Yeah, after you _talk about it first_. We haven't even _had_ this discussion, we're trying to stop the End Times and bring our daughter into the world first-" Abbie stopped. "... Oh. _Oh._ That's what this is about. You're proposing because you moved in with me and because we're having a kid!"

"No!" Ichabod shot back, only to falter a second later. "... No."

Abbie glared. "It is. _Seriously_?"

"It's not just because of that." Ichabod sat back. "Perhaps it has a part in it-"

Abbie rolled her eyes, preparing to get to her feet.

"Abbie, there's certain things that I-"

"Oh, my God. Crane." Abbie stumbled to her feet. "No. We are not doing this."

"The principal is still standing!" Ichabod got to his feet, following her out of the living room. "One gets engaged because one is in love, that's the first and foremost rule of-"

" _No_!" Abbie spun around, pointing at him. (To his credit, he had enough common sense to take one look at said finger and fall a step back.) "You cannot propose to me because we're _having a kid_! I want you to propose to me because you love me!"

"I do love you!" Ichabod retorted. "You said you knew that. I love you to the ends of the earth, Abbie, this doesn't have to be about-"

"But it is," Abbie replied. "It is, it will be until this kid is born. I can _not_ believe you're doing this now. We haven't even talked about getting married!"

"It's the next logical step..."

"No, ‘next logical step’ for you, the order for you, it's to fall in love, get married, move in together, and then have a baby. Now we're doing all that out of order and it's completely throwing you off!"

"I'll be the first to agree that our relationship is unconventional-"

Abbie sucked in a deep breath, holding out her hand. "Just stop. Talking. Now," she said slowly, and then exhaled. She closed her eyes briefly and then reopened them, dropping her hand. "I'm going to get have a bath, and I'm going to pretend that this conversation didn't happen, and you can kindly keep your distance from me until I'm not quite so irritated."

"Abbie..."

"Ah, no!" Abbie turned, striding for the stairs. "Not right now, Crane, so help me."

Ichabod made a noise, but he stayed where he was. All for the best.

Abbie wanted to run upstairs and throw herself into her bedroom and lock the door; unfortunately, she couldn't run up the stairs any more nor lock herself in her bedroom because it was _their_ bedroom.

... She hoped he had enough sense to sleep on the couch tonight. She was just in no mood for a repentant Crane in bed with her tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hey, I didn't say it was a good one. Happy SH S2 finale day, Abbie completely blew him off, let's hope for better in the show!)
> 
> There was an anony back in chapter 21 who guessed right off the bat what Crane was thinking about in that chapter, and lots of other people followed along with their comments. You guys totally made my day by being able to guess the intention without it needing to be stated xD
> 
> ~~you can tell from my title I spent the night watching the Oscar's~~


	31. Yes/No/Maybe Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter.
> 
> "I can assure you that my proposal was not only out of necessity."

Abbie couldn't sleep.

She didn't know if it was hormones or the pregnancy itself or that was the bed was just forlorn without Crane in it, but she couldn't sleep.

So, at half past two, she was awake and staring at the ceiling, willing the tiles on the ceiling to turn into sheep for her to count. Or, at least, for one of them to fall down and knock her out. When it became blindingly obvious that neither of those options were probable, Abbie sighed and slowly crawled out of bed, pulling her robe on. It was early March and the hardwood was cold against her feet, but her slippers had gone under the bed and she wasn't able to get them out herself.

She was just going to get some tea and go back to bed, anyway. It wouldn't take that long.

That's what she told herself.

Of course, all of rational thought when out the window when she quietly descended the stairs and found Crane illuminated by the soft glow of the television, drawn up on himself on the sofa, his arms around his knees and his chin on the top of them, looking impossibly small and pathetic. It looked like he was watching some cooking show (one of the many programmes he had a fondness for), which he quickly flicked off when he noticed Abbie was in the room.

"Sorry," he said, the room blanketed in darkness after the television was turned off. His voice was quiet and scratchy. "I apologize if I woke you."

Abbie shook her head slightly - get it together, Mills, you did not come down here to make up with him - before continuing to the kitchen for that tea. The over-the-stove light burned her eyes, which already ached from crying and lack of sleep. She searched for the tea wearily, and got to making herself a steaming, hot cup.

And, despite her best intentions, it was habit to make two. So, she ended up with two steaming, hot cups of tea, and a dwindling desire to continue being annoyed with Crane. He had just been doing what he was brought up to think was proper, that was all. Abbie knew that, but it still... stung. She hadn't known that a marriage proposal could sting.

With a sigh, she fixed the extra cup to Ichabod's liking and carried them both into the living room.

"Here."

Abbie could barely make out Ichabod's eyes glinting in the darkness let alone his reaction, but he uttered a quiet thanks and took the mug carefully. Abbie painstakingly sank onto the couch next to him, and reflexively leaned into his warmth.

"You can't sleep either?" she asked softly.

"... No," Ichabod said quietly, and Abbie's eyes adjusting to the darkness watched him curl his long fingers around the chipped mug. "I'm most afflicted by my own stupidity."

Abbie smiled faintly. "No... that was me, Crane."

"No, not at all, Lieutenant, it was poor manners on my behalf-"

"Let me finish." Abbie blew out a slow breath through her nose. "I know you mean well, I know... I know it's more than the baby," she muttered. "But, I don't know... you do it now and I think, well, he's doing it out of necessity, not because..." _not because he loves me._ She didn't say it out loud.

"... Understandable," Ichabod replied gently. "But I can assure you that my proposal was not only out of necessity."

"I know, I know." Abbie pressed against his arm. "I'm afflicted with stupidity, too, unless you forgot."

"Nothing you do could be irrational, my love."

Abbie closed her eyes briefly and willed her emotions not to get the better of her. She was emotional and overly tired. She took a drink of her tea and scalded her mouth to draw herself out of reverie. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"I will accept, if only you allow me to beg my forgiveness as well."

"... There's nothing to forgive," Abbie said, and smiled a little bit more because that sounded like something Crane would say himself.

They fell into a companionable silence, Abbie nestled up against Ichabod's side, and drank their tea without the tension rebuilding in the room. It was simply nice and peaceful, and Abbie was able to relax for the first time in hours.

"... Yes."

Ichabod glanced down at her. "Pardon?"

"Yes," Abbie said again, although she didn't look up from her now-empty mug. "What you were going to ask earlier. Yes."

Ichabod froze next to her, seemingly stunned into silence for a long moment. "You mean..."

Abbie nodded jerkily. "But no rings, no being official. And you have to do it properly, after this baby is out of me and my hormones are a little more up to par, and I have to say it then, too. So, yes, but just, not right now," she mumbled. "I want to do it right, you and me. I'm not going anywhere, and..."

"And I am not, either," Ichabod said immediately. "I will be by your side, always, Abbie. For as long as I live."

Abbie smiled. "... Likewise. Give me a few months and tell me that with a ring and we'll run off to Vegas and have the craziest wedding you've ever seen, Crane."

Ichabod laughed next to her. It started deep in his chest and Abbie could practically feel the vibrations, and then it was vocal and he leaned over to kiss her forehead. "I will look forward to this... crazy wedding. Elopement or not," he added. "Although I would prefer-"

"No plans," Abbie interrupted, laughing. "Later, Crane, later."

Ichabod nodded, although he was beaming all the same. He abandoned his mug on the table and leaned over to draw her into his arms, one arm wrapping around her chest and his other hand resting on her stomach. "Darest I repeat how much I love you?"

"I know." Abbie kissed his hand. "I love you, too."

"That's ever so good to hear, Miss Mills," Ichabod replied, and Abbie smiled and curled up against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned in a comment, an Ichabbie proposal is actually really difficult to write (for me, anyway). Can't pretend that Abbie's trust issues don't exist, even after all the time passed in this verse, and hey! She's pregnant in this verse. It was never going to be a good time.
> 
> That being said, I couldn't leave them fighting, either. xP


	32. "Lieutenant, What's Wrong?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _To: Ichabod Crane_   
>  **   
>  **  
>  _Come home_   
>  **
> 
> **  
> _Now_  
> **
> 
>   **  
>  _Please_  
> **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say updates would be quicker again? Well, they are.
> 
> There'll be lots of fluff for the next, ah, three-ish chapters. Now, while I don't think anybody is going to have a problem with Ichabbie fluff, just telling you ahead of time in hopes that you don't find the chapters 'boring'. Abbie's in the third trimester. There's only so much a writer can do here. Stick with me! :) Stick with them!

Abbie would tell herself, later, that it was because she was so close to the end of her pregnancy that she was so emotional about the whole thing.

But, at the time, it was the biggest thing in the world, so when she just started _sobbing_ , it wasn't at all mortifying because she was _miserable._

**_To: Ichabod Crane_ **  
**_Come home [Sent 07:14]_ **

**_To: Ichabod Crane_ **  
**_Now [Sent 07:14]_ **

**_To: Ichabod Crane_ **  
**_Please [Sent 07:15]_ **

Her phone started ringing immediately following the text, but Abbie flung it aside in favour of burying her face into the pillows. He'd be home in fifteen minutes, tops, once he managed to flail down a cab. (Flail, not hail. He still hadn't gotten it down.)

"Abbie?!!" There was banging at the front door, followed by the footfalls that echoed throughout the entire house. "Abbie?"

Ten minutes, new record. Maybe he was getting the hang of hailing a cab, after all.

"Lieutenant, what's wrong?" Ichabod's steps stopped in the doorway before crossing the room. "Are you hurt? Is it the baby? _Abbie_ , speak to me." He sank onto the bed next to her, pulling the pillows away from her.

Abbie shook her head wearily. She'd stopped crying after all of five minutes, sniffling the rest of the way until he got home. She still didn't feel like getting out of bed, though. She was definitely still miserable. And now her nose was all stuffed up.

"Love, I need you to speak to me. Please." Ichabod combed his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face.

"I couldn't tie my shoes."

Ichabod's fingers stilled in her hair.

Abbie knew how pathetic it was.

It had been awhile since she _could_ , true, but first she had had to downgrade from her heeled boots to sneakers and now, when she had gotten shoved into sneakers, she couldn't _tie them_. Normally, if they were double tied, she could just slip into them because they were worn out and she didn't need to _do_ anything with them. She didn't like _flats_ , so this _worked_.

But sometime between the last time she'd worn them and now, they'd come untied. And she. couldn't. tie them.

She'd feel ridiculous later, but right now, it made her... sad.

"... I'm sorry?" Ichabod asked softly.

Damn it, she was _not_ going to start tearing up again. No. "... I couldn't tie my shoes," she mumbled, looking up at him. "I can't even tie my own shoes, Crane."

Ichabod breathed out slowly. "Your... shoelaces. I didn't get the shopping because of your untied shoes."

"Sorry," Abbie muttered.

He smiled softly after a moment, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Not a problem, Lieutenant, however... _why_ were you deeming it necessary to tie your shoes?"

"... The newspaper's on the curb," she replied quietly. "I wanted to get the newspaper."

"I could have gotten the newspaper," Ichabod said, returning to stroking her hair lightly.

" _I_ wanted to get it." Abbie looked up at him wearily.

"You're supposed to _rest_."

"I wanted to get my own newspaper, Crane, just once, I want to do something _myself_."

Ichabod looked like he was trying not to sigh again; a look Abbie was intimately familiar with. She often felt that way with _him_.

"Where were your house slippers, Miss Mills?" he asked, a never-ending amount of patience in his voice. It should have made her mad, the nearly condescending tone. It didn't.

"I don't _want_ to go out in my slippers." She closed her eyes. "And it rained last night."

Ichabod was quiet for a moment before standing. Clearly he thought she was crazy. He was probably going off to laugh at her. She'd probably laugh at herself if she wasn't so morose. Morose... what did that even mean, anyway? She _felt_ morose, although she wasn't sure of the definition.

"Can you sit up for me?" Ichabod asked softly.

"No," she grumbled.

"Miss Mills," he continued in the same tone.

If anybody else talked to her in that tone - like talking a stubborn child - Abbie would have ripped their balls off. But still, it didn't sound as nearly insulting in Ichabod's soft tone. "... Fine," she mumbled, pushing the blankets away to sit up. "What do you want...?" She blinked when Ichabod expertly slid her feet into either of her sneakers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm tying your shoes," Ichabod said calmly. "And then," he continued, tying the other shoe, "we're going to collect our newspaper."

Abbie blinked down at him, nearly transfixed by the way his long fingers made quick work of the laces that were unreachable to her.

"Now. There. I think that looks well." Ichabod stood up, offering his arm to her. "Shall we, Lieutenant?"

My God. He was going to make her cry again. No, Abbie. _No_. No, no, no. She took his arm loosely, mumbling about how this was all unnecessary.

But even when Ichabod stopped just inside the door to shrug his coat off and drape it around her shoulders instead ( _"It's still damp out, as you perceived; I insist"_ ), Abbie couldn't really do anything except beam up at him and simultaneously try to not start crying again.

"Your news on paper, milady," he said, teasing, stooping to pick it up for her.

"Oh... stop it," Abbie mumbled, swatting his chest gently with it. In reality, she meant _thank you_ ; Ichabod's soft smile in return was the _you're welcome_.

 


	33. Territorial Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my God, Crane, you're so territorial!" She shoved against his chest playfully.
> 
> Ichabod looked defiant for all of a half second before it turned into a slightly sheepish, slightly puppy dog eyes look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by **Tirahsmommy** : showing off Abbie's pregnant tummy. I didn't exactly hit the mark, but I do particularly enjoy this chapter nonetheless. ^^
> 
> (Also: I finished off the final chapters of this story yesterday~~ All that's left is to post, so updates should be every other day because I'm ridiculously impatient for everyone to read it. xD)

"Oh, Abbie, you look so _good_."

"Yeah, well, I don't feel it." Abbie shook his head. "I swear, I'll be glad when this kid's out of me."

Tasha stepped forward, placing her hands on either side of Abbie's belly. "You said it's a girl? Oh, that's so exciting, you're going to have to definitely bring her by after you're settled!"

"Yes, of course." Abbie wanted to sigh; she knew she probably wouldn't take her daughter to see Tasha, mostly because Tash was from out of town and they saw each other maybe once or twice a year on accident, but she smiled, anyway.

She glanced up over Tasha's head, meeting Ichabod's gaze. He was watching her intently, although he looked more annoyed than anything. Abbie raised her eyebrows and Ichabod smiled immediately, his expression smoothing out. Abbie tilted her head slightly, but then Tasha started chatting away animatedly again, and Abbie was forced to leave her silent conversation with Crane for another time.

* * *

 

"Oh!"

Abbie winced as their daughter kicked her directly in the ribs, making her nearly double over with the pain.

"Lieutenant?" Ichabod asked quickly, stepping forward.

"Abbie?"

Abbie waved at both Jenny and Ichabod. "Fine," she mumbled, inhaling deeply. "She's just being... really active. Eesh."

"Come on, baby." Jenny rest her hand on Abbie's stomach, tapping gently. "Stop hurting your mommy."

Abbie laughed breathlessly. "I don't think that'll help."

Ichabod hovered at her shoulder, gaze flicking between Abbie and her stomach and Jenny. "Are you quite sure you're alright, Miss Mills? I've read stories where the baby can fracture one or more ribs-"

Abbie reached up to pat his shoulder. "Fine, Crane, really."

Crane pursed his lips but nodded. Again Abbie was assailed with the idea that _something_ was up, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but... what?

"Crap, Abbie, we're going to be late."

"What?" She glanced at her watch. "Oh, hell, come on."

* * *

 

"Congratulations again, Abbie, really." David rubbed her stomach lightly with his thumb.

Abbie smiled warmly. "Thanks, Dave, really."

Ichabod sighed behind her left shoulder.

Abbie had noticed it; Ichabod was _oozing_ hostility. He didn't usually _ooze_ hostility. It was subtle, she supposed, and she only noticed it so strongly because she _knew_ him, but... there was definitely something there.

"Well, I should go," David said, "I've got to get back in there, but it was great to see you again. I was disappointed when you didn't transfer over, but I can see that better things came of it."

"Yeah." Abbie smiled, leaning back into Ichabod slightly.

"Keep in touch."

"You, too."

Abbie turned once David was gone, looking up at him intently. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Ichabod looked down at her innocently, his hands folded behind his back. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're huffing down my neck, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

Abbie sighed heavily. "Can we not play this game?"

"Game, Lieutenant?"

"Just _tell_ me."

Ichabod looked down at her for a few seconds before his facade changed. "I'm sure it's merely a custom, but... why does everyone have to _touch_?"

Abbie blinked. "What?"

"Your stomach. Everyone seems to find it necessary to... touch and rub and tap." His eyes flickered towards the door where David had vanished. "I don't understand."

"... Are you jealous?" Abbie asked slowly.

"No!" Ichabod replied immediately.

"Because David's gay, you know?"

"No, I-" Ichabod frowned, doing a double take towards the door. "Surely not?"

Abbie chuckled. "He's married, too."

"He has an affinity towards speaking with women."

"He wasn't flirting, trust me. He's always like that." Abbie smiled, shaking her head slightly. "You don't have to worry about him, or anything. Everyone's just excited about the baby and, since I've gotten huge, everyone wants to touch. Not that I really like it, either, but hardly anyone asks," she muttered, more to herself. Trust Ichabod to get defensive, even more than he was already, if she let on.

"But... It's not fair," Ichabod muttered.

Abbie laughed, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "You have me and the baby all to yourself at home, Crane. And it's only for about a month now. Then you'll have me to yourself completely."

"Mm." Ichabod turned his head to kiss her on the lips. His hand came up to caress her face, while the other splayed across her stomach.

Abbie was surprised, although even more surprised when the kiss turned more passionate, so much so that she ending up staggering back a step or two. When she pulled away, she was laughing again. "Oh my God, Crane, you're so territorial!" She shoved against his chest playfully.

Ichabod looked defiant for all of a half second before it turned into a slightly sheepish, slightly puppy dog eyes look. "My apologies; that was forward of me."

"Didn't say I didn't like it," she teased.

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. The next thing Abbie knew, Ichabod had dropped down to his knee to press his lips against her stomach, and then, he straightened up and offered his hand to her. "Shall we?" he asked innocently, eyes sparkling.

Abbie laughed a little nervously, because she could feel people staring at them, and took his hand. "Come on, get up."

Ichabod smiled and curled his fingers around hers, leading the way from prying eyes.

 


	34. A Beautiful Whale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach an age old argument.
> 
> Abbie thinks she looks like a beached whale.  
> Ichabod thinks she's beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also requested by an **anonymous** (perhaps the same anonymous, I honestly can't remember? Either way, thank you anonymous(es) for the great ideas!)
> 
>  **A Note on the Rating** : I've kicked the rating from rated T to choosing not to define a rating. There's a little bit of fluffy smut coming. Not explicit, but it's sex talk at the very least, but more importantly, there's a _lot_ more swearing to come. Normally I rate f-bombs as M just to be safe, but seeing as how this is AO3 and I'm not any sort of pro-censorship person, I'm just knocking the rating and letting it up to the viewers. ^^ Given the subject matter of what happens after forty weeks of pregnancy, you know what's coming.

"This _sucks_!" Abbie threw the shirt down onto the bed in a fit of ill-disguised rage, staring towards her nearly empty wardrobe.

"Lieutenant?"

"Nothing _fits_!"

Ichabod blinked as he looked around the corner. "Beg pardon?"

"Nothing fits. None of my _clothes_." She gestured towards the closet. "None of it looks good. I look like a..." She stopped, searching for a word.

"I fail to understand. You are as beautiful as always," Ichabod replied, eyebrows knitting together. "Surely you know that by now, that I never tire of-"

"Stop talking like that," Abbie retorted sharply.

Ichabod pursed his lips and fell silent, although he raised one eyebrow at Abbie as though to say "really, _Lef-tenant"_? in his maddening British accent. He could ooze sarcasm without talking. It pissed Abbie off moreso than usual.

"I look like a fucking _whale_ ," Abbie bit off. "A beached fucking whale."

"Lieutenant-" _Lef-tenant_ , damnable gorgeous British accent "you do not look like a beached whale, I assure you." He stepped away from the doorway, joining Abbie in front of the full length mirror. "All one has to do is simply look to see your beauty. You are glowing."

Abbie glared at him in the reflection of the mirror. "I'm fat."

"You are not fat," Ichabod replied calmly, draping his arms around her neck. The pads of his fingers brushed over her stomach. "You are not unattractive. You are a mother, the mother of _our_ child, no less. You are beautiful, and never have I before seen such radiance."

Abbie wanted to keep glaring, but found herself suddenly close to giggling instead. "You are really laying it on thick."

"I'm telling the truth."

"Bullshit," Abbie muttered, looking back at the mirror. "... Am I really glowing? I never really figured out what that even means. I just look fat to myself. Like a mountain."

Ichabod kissed her cheek. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes," Abbie replied immediately.

Ichabod's face screwed up in an expression of hurt and contempt. "Not about anything important, surely."

"You broke the door handle on my car, Crane. You broke the door handle on my car this winter and you lied about it."

Ichabod cringed. "Oh. That."

"That."

"I did tell you," Ichabod muttered, tracing his fingers over Abbie's stomach. "Eventually."

"You did realise that the _longer_ you waited to tell me, the more irrational I was going to be? My hormones-"

"That was why," Ichabod muttered lowly.

Abbie scoffed, slapping his arm. "Crane!"

"I'm sorry." He smiled absently and pulled away. "Lunch is nearly ready. I made the lasagna you requested. I think I've gotten quite good at it; I look forward to your critique. But, seeing as how you do need proper attire..." He picked up a shirt from the bed, holding it out to her. "I prefer this one."

Abbie glanced at the shirt. "You didn't even look at it."

"Anything worn by you is idealistic perfection," Ichabod said.

Abbie smiled slightly, grabbing it away from him. "You're lying again."

"I am not." His tone was even.

Abbie struggled to get the shirt on over her head, silently grateful when Ichabod stepped forward to help. "You are, because-" she shoved her arm through the sleeve "- because there was that lingerie that we saw and- " the other arm "- you nearly had an apoplectic fit." She looked up at him, pulling the shirt down over her stomach. It didn't look flattering.

"That wasn't clothing!" Ichabod blustered, distracting her from her reflection. "That was... that was... miniscule scraps of fabric tied together!"

"It's called a harness, Crane. Well, I call it that, I don't know what it's really called. It's a little more hardcore."

"It's most improper," Ichabod murmured.

Abbie laughed quietly. "So, I _wouldn't_ look good in everything."

Ichabod stopped. "That's not... I mean to say... you _would_ , but..." He was floundering, so obviously floundering, and his face was turning red.

"Oh?" Abbie raised her eyebrows. "Did you want to get kinky on me, Ichabod Crane?"

"No! But if you _want_... I suppose... that is to say, if you preferred, then I wouldn't... um... _object_ ," Ichabod continued, stumbling over the words.

"I'd prefer lasagna," Abbie said matter-of-factly, changing the subject altogether. She turned and strode out of the room without looking back at him, knowing she'd gotten him all bothered with the mental image and she was now chuckling to herself as she left him alone with that thought.

... Not like she was doing lingerie anytime soon, anyway.

(She was still as big as a whale, she didn't care what he said. But it wasn't bad hearing him say she was beautiful, so she'd take it as a win some lose some. Mostly win because it ended with him blushing.)

 


	35. Sexed Up and Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexed up and eight months pregnant isn't exactly her cup of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by **2Shay** , and I'm pretty sure it was meant to be smuttier from the prompt. But, seeing as how I'm rubbish with smut, I made it a combo of fluff and smut. Hopefully, not too bad!

"Crane... Crane, Crane, this isn't going to-"

"I _know_ ," Ichabod snapped off, startling Abbie by the vehemence in his tone. Barely he made it above semi-loathing, let alone a snap. Especially not to _her_. "Er, sorry, I just..." He trailed off, stretching over to crash his lips against hers.

_I'm just human_ , was the phrase that came to mind, as Abbie reached up to tangle her fingers into his hair. Oh, she understood. She understood _too_ well.

When she pulled away, she was gasping for breath. Ichabod's head fell an inch to pepper kisses against the skin of her neck, fingers splayed against her back, hot-handed and heavy. "Crane," she mumbled. " _Crane_." She managed to get her hand against his chest, pushing him away a few inches.

"Sorry," Ichabod repeated, falling back a few inches. "My apologies. I can't seem to... control myself. Poor example," he muttered, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I thought I could handle it, _I'm_ the stupid one." Abbie struggled to sit up, gripping onto his shoulder for support.

They hadn't gone the pregnancy without sex. No. But she wasn't thirty-three weeks when they were trying to have sex and now sex was different. Really mother fucking difficult, actually. Horny as fuck and uncomfortable during the whole ordeal wasn't _exactly_ Abbie's cup of tea right now.

Neither Ichabod's, who looked fit to either burst or bite his own tongue off.

"Just... let me handle you and-"

"No!"

Ichabod's raised voice made Abbie jump again, her fingers pausing against his shoulder.

Ichabod's nostrils flared. "I meant... No," he said softer. "I am not the one I'm concerned about. This is not about me. This is about _us_." He frowned, his hair falling in sweaty tendrils around his face, fingers clenching into fists on the blankets.

"Ichabod, I can get you off now and then without needing the favour returned," Abbie said as teasingly as she could. It seemed rather weak-willed, to be honest, mostly because it _was_. Damn it, she'd been carrying this kid in her body for over thirty weeks, didn't she deserve an orgasm now and again??

Ichabod grabbed her hand. "No." He shook his head, a little wildly. "No."

Abbie groaned, dropping her head back against the headboard. "You're being _stupid_." She tilted her head as Ichabod's eyes latched onto the pulsing vein throbbing in her neck. For a brief moment, she wanted to giggle; if she didn't know better, he could have been a vampire, eyes alight with the fire of a chase and now he was ready to pounce.

Regardless, he _was_ ready to pounce.

Abbie bared her neck to him almost reflexively, she was his, ready to be taken if the circumstances dictated it. Likewise, he was hers, but if she couldn't get him to acknowledge the fact that she could give him a damn good hand job and even vice versa, then maybe she could get his self control to shatter enough to let her have her way.

" _Abbie_ ," Ichabod groaned, snapping his head away. "You are _taunting_ me; I refuse to play this-"

"Spooning!"

This time, her outburst startled him into looking right back at her. "Spooning?" he repeated slowly, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "I fail to see the importance of kitchen utensils-"

" _No_ ," Abbie interrupted (they were not doing that, not now). "Spooning, it's... like how you cuddle, how we cuddle, laying on our sides, I think if we did that-"

Recognition lit up Ichabod's gaze. "Oh. _Oh_. I concur," he breathed.

 

(Abbie was _so_ grateful that Ichabod was quick to learn new things and pick up on them.)

 

Ichabod's lips pressed up against the nape of her neck afterwards, lazy kisses that were dragged down by exhaustion. "... bie?" he mumbled, her name half smothered against her own skin.

"Mmm?"

"... Satisfactory?" he questioned, breath puffing out against her skin. He was so far gone, Abbie thought absently, wisps of thoughts billowing through her mind. Usually they _did_ manage to cuddle afterwards, but she was warm and cozy and drugged up from the post-orgasmic high and he was about to drop off while speaking.

"... Better than," she mumbled, smiling faintly into the pillow.

"Mhmmm." Ichabod's hum of approval was throaty against her skin, sending tremors clear down her spine.

"You?" she asked.

"... I missed your eyes."

Abbie opened her eyes, blinking off towards the wall. She was tired, it was such a chore, they'd be asleep in seconds... but it mattered. Painstakingly, she shuffled until she was on her other side to face him, smiling up at him.

Ichabod probably would have beamed if his eyes weren't half-lidded with sleep. As it were, he smiled sleepily and ducked his head, pressing his lips softly against hers. The implication was there; _I love you._

Abbie smiled as Ichabod rest his forehead against hers and let his eyes close. He'd be asleep in mere seconds, she was positive. It didn't matter. She didn't need him to say anything. He had already said so much without even speaking.

Abbie fumbled for his hand and closed her eyes, drifting off to the gentle sound of Ichabod breathing in the air around her.

 


	36. Practise Contractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're just practise contractions. How many times does he need to be told?

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Abbie ground out, blowing out a breath. "But I've been having them, they're just... getting worse." She breathed out again, resting her hand on her stomach. " _Ugh_."

Ichabod frowned, fidgeting with the remote. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

"No," Abbie retorted, a little more sharply than she intended. It wasn't her fault; it hurt, damn it. "They're gonna keep happening."

"I know, and I'm just as worried that they're real every time they occur."

First Braxton Hicks that had occurred, thankfully, Crane hadn't been around. He'd been tracking down a lead with Jenny on a sea creature reminiscent of Nessie herself when Abbie'd had the first one. She had only _just_ stopped herself from calling him because she _knew_ that false contractions were bound to happen. Besides, the doctor had said that wait until they were regular. Something like that.

Of course, Ichabod had experienced them since then. He had also wanted to rush her into the hospital the first time he had witnessed them. He'd bypassed that now (mostly...) but it was ramping up again since she was so close to her due date.

"My water hasn't broken and they're not regular. I'm telling you, it's just... Hicks."

"It's not going to be ‘just Hicks’, though," Ichabod continued. "One time. It's going to be the actual thing."

"And you will be the first one I tell," Abbie muttered, pressing her forehead against his arm. "But until then."

"Until then, I'll continue to dislike feeling so helpless," Ichabod retorted.

"And I'll continue to be in _pa_ in." She screwed her eyes shut.

Ichabod tilted his head to kiss her hair, huffing, by the feel of his breath against her skin. His hand curled over hers on her stomach, rubbing circles onto her skin. "This is most irritating."

"Wait until it's real labor," Abbie griped. "Just wait."

"As much as I am excited for the birth of our daughter, I... don't like seeing you in such distress," Ichabod muttered.

"Just wait," Abbie repeated darkly.

"How much pain we face for the most joyous of occasions," Ichabod said softly.

"How much indeed," Abbie grumbled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	37. One Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Mills-Crane is definitely overdue simply for the fact of purely making them all the more nervous, they suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by **... unknown** \- that Baby Mills-Crane should be late. I had the person who requested it written down but it got deleted, now I can't find it in the comments. If you're the person who requested it, please do let me know! 
> 
> I know, there's kind of a gap in her pregnancy here, but there's only so much that can be prattled on about being in the last few weeks of pregnancy. But, even so...

Fuck the seven year tribulation.

Abbie was on a seven _day_ tribulation.

"Icha _bod_."

"I know, love, I know."

"Would you stop _calling_ me that?"

"I'm sorry."

Abbie sighed. She knew that Ichabod was just saying it out of habit now.

"No, I am," she said shortly. "Not your fault."

"And I am clearly not helping."

Abbie groped for the cushion, throwing it at him.

He didn't duck like she expected, but he did look momentarily surprised after the pillow hit him in the face. His expression made her bust out laughing.

"Lieutenant...?"

"Sorry." Abbie laughed quietly. "Your face... I'm sorry." She squirmed. "Have to find something to do when I'm this useless."

"You are not useless."

"I can barely get off this couch, Crane, and that's with your help. If she doesn't come out soon, I swear..." She huffed softly.

The phrase ‘a week overdue’ was never a good thing, was it? First the period, now the actual _baby_.

"Yes..." Ichabod's eyes flickered down to the bump - the very large bump, at this point. "Darling, doesn't it sound better to come out and meet us?" he said softly. "While I can't speak for the Lieutenant, you are making me very nervous."

"She's making me _reaallllyyy_ crabby," Abbie said teasingly. Sort of teasingly. It was true. "And uncomfortable. And nervous, too, of course." She stroked her fingers against her stomach. "Crane, we haven't even gotten a name yet."

"Surely we will settle when we see her. Our list isn't that long." Ichabod leaned over to press a tender kiss against the bump. "We will know."

"Ugh. We better. She'll just be Baby Mills-Crane. I just wish-" She broke off, trying to get comfortable. It was pointless; she was _ugh_. Just that, in a word.

"She'll be here soon," Ichabod promised, the vibrations of his voice felt through her skin. "She will be here soon."

"Hmm... Continue that. That... coaxing her. Still haven't met a woman who can resist your voice and that accent."

She felt rather than heard Ichabod laugh. It was a nice sound. They'd both been on pins and needles for the past week.

Of course, bad punctuated the good; Abbie tensed up as another Hicks seized up her muscles.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

"Language, Abbie," Ichabod chastised softly, rubbing her stomach.

She wanted to tell him just where he could put his _proper language_ , but didn't for the sake of the argument. And besides. It _hurt_. Labor was going to be a bitch.

"My darling," Ichabod was saying, although he wasn't speaking to her. "You must join us. We're due for your arrival. We're waiting eagerly, little dove. With bated breath, I must add."

Abbie closed her eyes and pressed her head back into the sofa.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... you know what this means~


	38. And So it Begins!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contractions?! Contractions!!

"Crane."

Abbie propped herself up with shaking arms. She hadn't been sleeping all night; she rarely slept at all at this point.

"Crane."

"Mmhhhm..." The sound Ichabod made was neither here nor there in terms of actual communication. He was still asleep, long limbs thrown everywhere, hair draped into his face. He looked so peaceful that Abbie wanted to smack him - for a second.

"Crane!"

Ichabod shifted, turning his head towards her. His eyes slitted enough for him to look tiredly towards her, confusion flooding his gaze. "... Abbie?"

"... The contractions," she mumbled.

Ichabod blinked tiredly, rolling onto his side. "... What?" he asked, ineloquently.

"Real contractions."

Ichabod stared at her sleepily for a long moment. And then he sat up so suddenly that it startled them both. "Contractions!"

Abbie winced. "Yes, thank you."

"Goodness." Ichabod struggled with the blankets for a moment before flinging them away to stagger to his feet. "Right. We have the bag packed. I'll need, uh- I'll need your keys, I need to drive." He spun around, heading for the door. "Where're your shoes?"

" _Crane_." Abbie groaned, grabbing a fistful of the blankets. "Honey, darling, your intentions are... great, but _I need help out of bed_."

Ichabod inhaled sharply, turning back to the bed. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"You do realise... they're not... close enough yet," Abbie said, clinging to his shoulder as she struggled to her feet. "Oh, my back is _killing_ me."

Ichabod's hand immediately, and maybe unconsciously, fell into the middle of her back. "What do you mean about your contractions?"

"We can't go to the hospital too soon because... they'll send us back home." She blew out a breath. "They're about ten minutes, I think... they aren't lasting too long."

"We can't go to the hospital?" Ichabod repeated. "But you're-"

"- in labor, yes," Abbie retorted. "I _noticed_. But they're not close enough. I just can't lay there."

"Well, what should-"

"Walk, I wanna walk." Abbie staggered away from him, trying to stretch. "And you could rub my back, or something. Oh, God, I cannot _believe_ this is happening, I'm about to be a mother." She rubbed at her back awkwardly, leaning against the door frame.

" _We're_ about to be parents," Ichabod clarified, joining her at the door frame. He gripped at her shoulders, squeezing lightly. "We're about to be parents." His grip faltered. "... We are."

"You cannot freak out on me, Crane, _please_ , I need someone to think we're going to be good parents."

Ichabod's hands regained their pressure, sliding down to rub her back. "We are going to be amazing parents. You are going to be an amazing mother."

Abbie smiled faintly. "Uh huh... and you're going to be - oh - an amazing father, too. Whenever she... pops out."

Ichabod made a noise that she clearly wasn't meant to hear, but he chased it away with a cough and speaking. "When should we begin our journey to hospital?"

"Um, I'd-" Abbie clamped her teeth together as another contraction began. "Time," she gasped.

"Pardon?"

"What time is it!"

"Oh." Ichabod paused. "Three-forty seven."

Abbie groaned, clutching at the door frame. She'd been a bit off; they were eight minutes apart. Either that, or they were speeding up. First time labor was supposed to take _longer_ , wasn't it? Or was that the bit about just the baby being late? She couldn't _remember_.

"Abbie?" Ichabod's voice had pitched upwards; he must have been talking and she hadn't been listening.

"Sorry," she gasped. "Eight minutes."

"Abbie, this is making me increasingly nervous. I don't see why we can't go to the hospital _now_."

Abbie clenched her teeth, straightening up slightly. "And get sent home, no. No."

"Eight minutes isn't long at all; the tides of battle have turned in less time," Ichabod retorted. "Surely if we explain the situation-"

"That I didn't plan on kids and that you're a dude from the 18th century, yeah, that's gonna go over _real_ well." Abbie inhaled slowly, trying to get her breath back. She didn't think they were getting any longer, so maybe she had just miscounted. She needed that stopwatch app on her phone. "Walk," she ordered, fumbling for his arm.

"Where to?" At the very least, he was accommodating, offering his arm for purchase.

She did notice, however, that said arm of his was shaking ever-so-slightly. It made her feel vindictively pleased, if only because he clearly felt the same way she did about it. Nervous as hell. Terrified, really. "Anywhere, the living room."

"Very well." Ichabod paused, seeming to teeter on conversation. Abbie let him be; a moment later, he broke the silence. "How long have your contractions been occurring regularly?"

"A few hours..." Abbie rubbed her stomach. "Ah, five or so, I think."

"Wait a moment." Ichabod looked down at her. "Five hours? Why didn't you tell me?"

Abbie tried for a smile. "You were asleep. I didn't know at first. I just thought... the false ones." Ichabod didn't look impressed; Abbie wasn't terribly impressed herself, honestly. "I didn't want to... panic you."

Ichabod huffed softly. "Time of day or night is irrelevant on that front, I assure you." He made a face. "I apologise; you requested that I remain calm."

Abbie rolled her eyes. She knew that as soon as her contractions got closer or longer or the moment they stepped foot in the hospital, all of his quote-unquote ‘calm’ was going to go out the window.

They were going to be a hot mess.

Abbie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming, for both Ichabod and Abbie and the readers. ;)
> 
> I don't know a whole lot about timing of contractions (vs going to hospital) vs hours spent in labour vs dilation, so apologies in advance in any of it is off in the upcoming chapters. I did some searching as well as spent some time poking through pregnancy stories here on AO3 (and, to be fair, some of the labour fanfic is so unrealistic, so I think I can't do worse than some other people). Anyway, every labour is different, so keep it in mind.
> 
> Stay tuned~ :D


	39. To Hospital!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie's in labor and Crane's driving. And neither of them changed out of their pajamas.

"You didn't even change out of your pajamas."

"Propriety was really the last thing on the list of priorities, Lieutenant." Ichabod's fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

It was a miracle and a half, Abbie thought, that he had managed to even get his shoes on before they had left the house. Her _I'm not going to the hospital yet_ hadn't lasted long, at all, which she should have expected, but _damn it_ , it _hurt_. And Ichabod silently (or not so silently) panicking about getting her to the hospital, well... she should have known. Hell, she should have just gone straight to the hospital the moment she _knew_ it was real labor. But she didn't. Because she was stubborn. And apparently an idiot.

Still, Ichabod had _never_ gone _anywhere_ in his pajamas - which were, more or less, a crew neck and cotton pj pants.

Didn't have much on her t-shirt and sweatpants, but. She was in _labor_ ; she had a _reason_ for being in her pajamas.

"I _realize_ ," Abbie groaned, clamping her fingers around the armrest in the car, "that. I'm just. _saying_ you never... go out without proper clothes- Oh, _God_."

"Abbie?" Ichabod glanced towards her.

"Keepyoureyesontheroad!" Abbie snapped, pressing her back against the headrest.

Ichabod said something very un-Ichabod-like under his breath at that, and Abbie would have laughed if she wasn't about to have their _child_ in the front seat of her _car_. How could only a few seconds twenty or thirty or however long they were now feel like it was _so long_? It was a _lifetime_. It felt like a lifetime.

"I thought first time births were supposed to take longer," Ichabod said tersely. His fingers were clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that the skin was stretched tight over his knuckles.

"I don't care what they say."

"I understand that," Ichabod said. "I'm just stating..."

"Well, _don't_ , because I am the one about to push a _human being_ out through my _vagina_ , Crane, I don't want _opinions_!"

Ichabod made a noise that was somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed. He didn't say anything else, which was probably for the best.

Abbie would calm down once she was at the hospital, out of this _car_. Her back was killing her, she just wanted to move, get up, walk around, something. She couldn't move. She hated being trapped down. Not a good feeling, especially after the conditioning of being a Witness of the freaking Apocalypse.

Theoretically, by the time that her next contraction hit, they'd almost be at the hospital. It wasn't that far away now. She was fine. They were fine.

There was a stab of pressure; Abbie opened her mouth to frantically speak when liquid, warm and wet, soaked into her sweats, staining them dark in the half light of car. She froze up for all of three seconds, mortified, before swearing out loud. " _Fucking hell_."

"Abbie?" Ichabod glanced at her again. "What's wrong, what's happened?"

"My water, my water broke." Breathe, Abbie. Breathe, you're going to be fine. You're in labor and your water just broke and you're about to have this baby. Fine. It's all fine.

"What?"

"Get me to the hospital, Crane!" she shrieked.

"Eternal damnation," Ichabod muttered, mostly under his breath.

Abbie guessed that was Crane-speak for _Damn it_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> (Meanwhile, Ichabod's still all flustered that Abbie's talking about her vagina. You know he is, beneath all the eternal damnation. xP)


	40. Sweating it Out in Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe actually _being_ at the hospital will help both of them to calm down.
> 
> ... But probably not, right.

If it were anyone else but her, and anything else but their child, Abbie would have banned Crane from ever driving her car again after the parking job that he managed, whipping it into the emergency drop-off without so much as a by-your-leave, Lieutenant.

As it were, she was too panicked to _care_ , and in too much pain to complain when he ran into the hospital (and she didn't even want to _know_ what he said when he got in there) to get a nurse with a wheelchair.

"Her contractions have been ongoing for nearly seven hours now, since the start," Ichabod was saying, trotting along behind them incessantly. "At least, that's as far as I know..." He glanced down at her, then seemed to think better of questioning her about it, and looked back to the nurse to continue speaking. "Her water broke in the car on the way here."

"How far apart are the contractions, Miss Mills?" the nurse asked pleasantly - the only one who sounded calm out of all of them. At least someone was.

"Six... Six and a half, I think. Maybe a little longer." Abbie gripped the armrests of the wheelchair with a vice-like grip. "Forty... forty, forty-five seconds, it's _really_ hard to keep track in the meantime," she groused. She felt light-headed and coated in sweat. She wanted to lay down, but knew the moment she did, she'd want to be up. She wanted to _cry_ because she wasn't _at all_ prepared for this, she couldn't _possibly_ -

"I need you to breathe, Miss Mills," the nurse reminded. "Everything is going to be fine. We're going to get you into delivery and get you checked out, alright?"

"Yes," Abbie ground out. "Not like I have a choice."

Ichabod quickened his step and grabbed her hand, tangling his fingers with hers tightly. "Just a few more moments, Lieutenant, and then you can rest."

"Oh." Abbie blew out a breath. "I fucking doubt that. And your hand is all _sweaty_." She held on tightly, though. She wasn't letting him go now, or ever, not after this. She might kill him first, but she still wouldn't let go.

* * *

 

A crappy hospital gown and three more contractions didn't make her feel any better, but when the doctor _did_ come in, Abbie thought that she might have never been happier.

"Good morning, Miss Mills. My name's Doctor Holloway, but you can call me Jude. How're you feeling?"

"Oh... peachy," Abbie mumbled.

Jude laughed quietly. "I'm just going to check your dilation, see how far along we are."

Abbie nodded, watching Jude put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Wait a moment," Ichabod interrupted, breaking his silence in his post next to her head.

"Yes, Mr. Crane?"

"Her dilation..."

Abbie groaned, tilting her head back to look up at him. She _knew_ what he was thinking, and the narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows give him away even if she didn't. "Don't. _Start_ ," she demanded, then forced a weak smile at Jude. "Go ahead."

It wasn't painful - although going by the strangled noise that Ichabod made when the doctor ducked between her legs, it might have been debatable - so much as it was uncomfortable, although her view on pain was probably skewed at this point.

"You're at three centimeters, Miss Mills," Jude continued, straightening back up and peeling his gloves off.

Abbie didn't know if her heart sank or if she groaned out loud. It was probably a bit of both. _"Three_?" She would have continued if the familiar cramping sensation hadn't started up again, tearing a moan from her lips as she fumbled for anything to hold onto. "Oh, _son_ of a _bitch_."

Ichabod brushed her hair out of her face, a touch too close in her peripheral vision. Abbie couldn't speak sentences to complain. "I'm right here, Abbie, love," he murmured, stroking the back of her hand. "It'll be okay."

She wanted to hit him, she wanted to sob, she wanted to have the baby, she wanted to go home and pretend this wasn't happening.

Forty seconds later, she thumped her head back into the uncomfortable pillow, trying to maintain her breathing. She had thought she wouldn't panic as much once she was here in the hospital, but it was just as stifling.

"Abbie?"

"If you like," Jude said, startling Abbie back into reality, she'd forgotten he was there, "we can give you something for the pain, it's not uncommon for first-time mothers to dilate slowly."

"Yes!" Ichabod said loudly, his voice next to her ear making her jump. She tilted her head again to look back at him, but he was looking at the doctor. "Anything that will lessen the amount of pain that she is in," Ichabod continued sternly.

"Have you two talked about the possibility of an epidural? If you wish, we can administer one now, you're in the range for it."

"Yes," Ichabod said immediately. "An epidural, yes."

Abbie couldn't help but laugh weakly; Ichabod looked down at her immediately. Abbie smiled wearily. "Do you even know what that is?" she muttered.

"Yes," Ichabod replied, the slightest tone of his _h_ _onestly, Lieutenant, do you think me a complete idiot?_ seeping into his tone. But then he turned serious again, continuing "And I know that it will lessen your degree of pain, something in which I wholly encourage you to take advantage of." He looked down at her, eyes intent.

Abbie almost wanted to squirm from the intensity of his gaze. "... Anyway, yeah, he's right, please," she said, looking back at Jude. It was something that they had talked about, something that Abbie had said, immediately, yes, if she couldn't handle it. Pride only stretched so far. Like certain parts of the body were meant to.

Ichabod sighed softly. "Thank you."

"I'll be saying that in a little bit," Abbie muttered. "Hopefully."

"I hope so as well," Ichabod said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

"Crane," she protested, shoving at his chest, "I'm all sweaty."

"I've dealt with far worse," Ichabod replied, reaching to take her hand between both of his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm just teasing you all so horribly, I know. xP
> 
>  
> 
> On a factual note, I was doing a bit of waffling over her contractions and dilation, but I've read that women can go into labour and have intense, prolonged contractions still only be dilated one or two centimetres. Hopefully this isn't a rarity among cases, and I haven't botched the timeline too badly. As for the epidural, would they give her one immediately upon arriving? Probably not, I don't know. But I believe the range is two to seven centimetres, so I took the creative liberty. I'm just keeping it real here; I do my research the best I can with the topic and go from there. :)


	41. Lovey-Dovey Numbness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Numbed up from the epidural, Abbie taps into her feelings and all Ichabod wants to do is shower her with affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the calm before the storm.

Epidurals were amazing.

That was probably her last conscious thought before she fell asleep, exhausted from a repeated lack of good night's sleep and the onset of labor.

When she woke up, she was groggy and a little confused, but immediately ground by the fact that her hand was in Ichabod's.

He wasn't looking at her, staring off into the distance. The sunlight that was cast in through the window illuminated his figure; hair falling to his square shoulders, back ramrod straight with impeccable posture, the gentle rise and fall of his torso as he breathed. How had she not really _seen_ him for all that time before they'd started dating? Love was blind. Love was beautiful.

"Hey," she said softly.

Ichabod turned around immediately, leaning closer to her. "Lieutenant. Did you sleep well, love?"

"For the first time in forever," Abbie mumbled, reaching for the controls on her bed. "What were you looking at?"

"This piece of machinary designed to read the contractions." Ichabod nodded to the monitor. "They are getting increasingly quicker, and longer. We are making progress," he said with a soft smile.

"Oh." Abbie blinked. "I can't feel a thing."

Ichabod nodded. "As loathe as I fear I will be in saying this," he said, with a mockingly severe glance towards her, "your modern medicine is far more preferable than that of the 18th century."

Abbie cracked a smile. "Uh huh."

Ichabod regarded her critically. "I harbor an intense dislike for seeing you in pain."

"Don't worry, I hate being in pain, too." It was meant to be a joke, but the look in Ichabod's gaze didn't change. "Hey, really... I'm good. 's supposed to happen."

Ichabod nodded shortly. "I understand, although it doesn't make it any less bearable."

"I'll be fine, Crane." She gripped his kneecap loosely, turning her head. "What time is it?"

"Just past eight," Ichabod responded. "I telephoned both your sister and Captain Irving, since the sun has risen. Although Miss Jenny was most angry that I didn't telephone her sooner..." He frowned.

"Don't worry about it." Abbie sighed heavily, resting her hand on her stomach. "Did she say when she'd be here? Or if Frank's coming?"

"She spent the night out of town, apparently, but rest assured that she is on her way. I was unable to speak with the Captain, but I left him a voice message."

Abbie nodded. "'kay." She shifted uncomfortably, which, of course, Ichabod picked up on immediately.

"What is it? What do you need?"

"Just the pillows, they're flat." She was pretty sure she was never going to be able to say _Crane, can you fluff my pillows for me?_ even if the circumstances were as they were.

"Let me." Ichabod stood up. "Careful there, Miss Mills."

"Uh huh..."

"There. I venture to say that that might be better?" He kissed the top of her head and sat back down, folding his hands in his lap. "Is there anything else that you require?"

"Oh, thanks. Um." She settled back against the pillows carefully. "Ice chips, maybe? Water, if they'll let me have it."

Ichabod nodded. "Just one moment, Lieutenant."

Abbie watched him stride out of the room with purpose, still managing to look all the more impressive in his wrinkly pjs. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed about it, honestly. He had, also, gone back to calling her _Lieutenant_. Apparently her name was still only in effect for times of crisis. She laughed to herself and turned her face away from the window, closing her eyes. What a strange sight they must be, Sleepy Hollow Sheriff Department's Lieutenant having a baby with tall, dark, and British in modern pajamas as the father.

When the door opened, she didn't expect Doctor Holloway, but she wasn't entirely unhappy to see him.

"Just in time for a check-up, Miss Mills," he said cheerfully.

"Call me Abbie, please." Now that she wasn't panicking (as much) or in pain (at all, well, mostly), it was a lot easier to be civil.

"How are you feeling? Epidural working?"

Abbie nodded. "Uh huh. Can't feel a thing."

Jude nodded. "Good. I'll just check your dilation really quick and we'll see how things are progressing."

Abbie just continued to nod absently, failing to be surprised when Ichabod walked back in the middle of the exam.

"Ab-" he started, but broke off, pressing his lips together. He crossed the room in three strides to stop next to the bed, fingers clenched tightly around the flimsy plastic cup of ice in his hand.

"Good news," Jude said. He seemed completely oblivious to Ichabod's jealousy. Come to think of it, he'd probably seen and heard it all before, working in delivery. "You're at eight centimeters, things have sped up quite a bit."

"Really?"

"Truly?"

Abbie glanced up at Ichabod just as he glanced down at her. Abbie laughed, the trilling of nerves shooting through her veins. Ichabod smiled back, reaching for her hand tightly.

"There's always a possibility for things to change, but if you continue on at this rate, I'd say you two will have your baby in just a few more hours."

Hours. _Hours_. Part of Abbie wanted to say _are you kidding me? Hours for two centimeters?_ but then she remembered that she actually had to push. Trying to block that out entirely, in just a few _hours_ , they'd have their daughter in the flesh.

Ichabod blew out a breath. "Heavens."

Abbie chuckled, biting the inside of her cheek. She was giddy with excitement and paralyzed with fear at the same time.

"I love you." Ichabod abandoned the ice chips, leaning over to cup either side of her face with his hands. "I adore you more than you will ever know, Abbie."

Abbie wanted to say _not true, I know_ , but Ichabod pressed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss that left color rushing to her cheeks. She didn't know if Doctor Holloway was still in the room, or if there were more questions to be answered, or if they were meant to be doing anything, but it didn't matter.

She clumsily reached up to tangle her fingers into his hair, holding him close. The calm before the storm, she thought as Ichabod rest his forehead against hers lightly. All of the best perfection though. She wouldn't change it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to post the last three chapters right now, but I'm waiting for the sake of suspense. My anticipation on the readers knowing and their reactions is almost as bad as said reader's anxiety x'D Like I mentioned... calm before the storm. ~~guess what next chapter is~~


	42. The Big Push - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing else be said;
> 
> Push.

"I _swear_ I'm gonna send your skinny ass back to 1781!" Abbie shrieked.

"I can... assure you, Abbie." Ichabod's face was pained, perhaps from the chokehold grip she had on his hand. "That if you did that, we would not be able to experience the family that we are soon to be."

His placating was not at all reassuring; Abbie wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with himself and where, just like she wanted to scream although the doctors had said screaming wasn't encouraged, just like she wanted to say _get this kid out of me_ even though she wasn't quite at ten yet. The contractions, nevermind that, were a _huge_ pain in the ass, lasting almost a minute and a half and coming every minute or so. Probably more a minute for a half a minute but _fuck_ if she knew. The whole damn Apocalypse could be happening outside the window and she wouldn't know at this point.

"Your sister is in the waiting room, Abbie," one of her nurses said. "She's quite insistent."

"Oh, _Jenny_ ," Abbie groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes. " _Crane_ , go take care of it, I don't want her in here _now_."

"Surely she would-"

"It's bad enough you have to see me like this, not my sister, too; this is _your_ fault, _you_ fix it, now go!"

Ichabod nodded shortly. "Very well, I do require my hand, however, so-"

Abbie flung his hand away, breathing through the respite between her contractions. She didn't know why the epidural had worn off, or maybe they had told her how long it would last but she hadn't been listening at _all_ when she'd first come in, but it had worn off for the _worst. part_.

Just her luck. _Just_ her luck.

Ichabod pulled away reluctantly, vanishing out the door.

Abbie sucked in a deep breath, grabbing ahold of the blankets since she no longer had his hand to hold. "When is this going to be over?!" she demanded. "And where is Jude? Shouldn't he be here?!"

"Don't worry, hun, he'll be here soon."

 _Don't call me hun!_ she snapped mentally, moaning as another contraction rippled through her stomach. "Stop, stop, stop, get it out! I need to push!"

"I've got good timing, then," Doctor Holloway said cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Oh, she wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill him for being so damn cheerful at eleven o' clock in the morning. At least _he_ got coffee. At least _he_ wasn't giving birth to a baby. Abbie wanted to shoot him, where was her gun?

"Make it _stop_ ," Abbie gasped, biting into her arm to stop herself from crying out. Why hadn't she had a c-section? Why had she gotten pregnant? She was _never_ doing this again! Damn Crane and his sexy voice and big hands and _sperm_.

"You're fully dilated, Abbie!" Jude said loudly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"I could have told you that!" Abbie growled. "Need to push." It was pure instinct this time; she didn't need the doctor or the nurse to tell her. The pressure was unbearable; their daughter was coming _now_ , whether or not they wanted her to or not.

"Yes, you do," Jude said calmly. "At your next contraction, tuck your chin to your chest and push."

"Where the hell is Crane?!" she demanded.

"Honey, Mr. Crane will be right back, but you need to push now," one of the nurses said.

"I _know_!" Not like she had a choice, but this was his job, this was his _only_ job, to stand by her when she was in labor-!

"Push, Abbie!"

She grabbed onto one of the nurse's hand that was being offered in the meantime, following the instinctive command. She'd been punched, slapped, shot at, clawed, stung, and nearly blown up, to name a few things over the course of her career and life, but this had nothing on it.

The nurse only counted to seven before Abbie collapsed back into the pillows, swearing over and over again, mumbling words that she didn't know what she was trying to say.

"Abbie," Jude said sharply. "We need better than that."

"Mmmphh..." Abbie panted for breath. Her lungs were on fire, her back was burning, the pain from the contractions surging throughout her entire body.

"Abigail," Jude said loudly. " _Push_!"

All thoughts of not screaming went out the window. Horrible way to start out. But it _hurt_.

"Abbie!" Ichabod's voice raised above all the commotion. "No, no, no, I need to come through, let me through, my wife is in labor! _Abbie_!" He nearly knocked the nurse out of the way in his haste, half tripping into the bed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Oh, shove it up your ass!"

Ichabod might have looked momentarily confused - Abbie didn't see - but he reached over to take her hand tightly in his nonetheless.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Abbie snapped, swatting at his hands. The next contraction ramped up and she immediately grabbed back at his hands again, groaning through her teeth as she pushed again. "Craaaaaane."

"You're doing fine," he replied immediately, but his tone was off.

Was it just her imagination that he'd gone from frenzied to all of a sudden ass backwards? His voice sounded too flat. "Crane?" she mumbled, gasping for breath, tilting her head back to look at him.

"You're doing wonderful, love," he replied, smiling weakly.

"You-"

"Again," the doctor reminded. (As if she could forget.)

She screamed again, with a few curses this time, that helped, cursing helped, it was statistically proven, right? Of course it was. Swearing made everything better.

Ichabod shifted in Abbie's peripheral vision, pulling one of his hands away from hers. She couldn't focus on him until after she'd gotten to ten - or what she assumed was ten, she pushed as long as she could - searching for his gaze with half-lidded eyes; she was exhausted. "'chabod...?"

Crane was pressed half into the wall, still holding onto one of her hands with his crazy long arms. But his other hand had his fingers splayed over his mouth, looking pale in the artificial light of the room.

"Crane," Abbie repeated louder. She couldn't deal with him passing out on her, she just couldn't.

He jumped. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit nervous, I suppose, it's happening so quickly all of a sudden, you're in so much pain; I just wish that I could switch places with you!" he exclaimed, a wild look creeping into his gaze as he stared back at her in a panic.

Abbie nearly choked over the frenzied laugh that she tried and failed to contain. _Me, too._

Her laughter turned to tears by the next contraction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> ;)


	43. The Big Push - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daughter, our daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CANNOLI WE'VE BEEN RENEWED FOR A THIRD SEASON WE REALLY DID IT YOU GUYS OH MY GOODNESS SEASON THREEEEEEEE

Abbie was dying.

It was the only logical explanation for the amount of sheer pain she was in. She was dying in order to bring a new life into the world.

She'd didn't know how long she'd been pushing. It felt like a lifetime and she could have sworn that the doctor said _almost there_ after each time.

She didn't know _when_ she'd started crying, but she couldn't stop. She wanted to lean over and bury her face into Ichabod's chest and beg him to knock her out, or beg him to beg the doctor to.

"Love, you're almost there, I swear to you," Ichabod said, swiping her tears away with his thumbs. "Please, Abbie. For our daughter, for me. For you." He kissed her briefly. "Don't give up. My strong Abbie, _fight_. You never give up. I'm right here with you. I will never leave you."

Abbie laughed weakly, her vision blurring with more tears. It wasn't a matter of him being there, or her being there, or the world spinning around them. "... too tired."

"No," Ichabod replied firmly, stroking her hair out of her eyes. "No, Abbie. You take my strength and you don't give in." He seized her hands and squeezed them tightly. "Push, Abbie. _Push_."

"You don't under _stand_!" she yelled, bearing down with all of her strength. It was impossible, she was never going to be able- she was failing Crane, their daughter- _everyone_. "Ow, ow, ow!" Each new sensation was too much; she was never going to be able to-

"She's crowning, keep pushing, Abbie, keep going!"

She was honestly going to die.

"Abbie, my love, she's almost here, she's almost here, did you hear that?" Crane was talking again. Maybe he had never stopped. "You're doing so well, you're almost there. It's almost over, our daughter's going to be here momentarily. She's going to be strong and perfect just like you..." His voice edged off into white noise in the background; it hurt too much to focus on anything except the pain.

The edges of her vision were dancing with dark spots two pushes later but

A sharp cry split the air. It wasn't her own; Abbie forced herself to open her eyes, to blink the darkness away. Because

"It's a girl!"

It was a girl.

They had already known that.

But it was.

A girl.

Their daughter.

Her daughter.

Ichabod sucked in a deep breath at Abbie's side. Abbie stared with tired expectation towards the nurses, cringing at the sound of a baby - their baby - wailing. She just wanted to see her...

"Mr. Crane, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

It took Abbie a minute to register the statement, and then she turned her head towards him. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Can I?" he cracked out. His eyes were glimmering, and he was studiously not looking at her.

They must have given him the affirmative; he squeezed Abbie's hand firmly for a brief second before pulling away, murmuring an _"I'll be right back"_.

Abbie sighed heavily, forcing her eyes open again. She wanted to sleep; she wanted to see their daughter. She was so tired.

"Here she is," the nurse said softly, holding out the bundle swathed in a soft pink blanket to her.

Abbie reached out blindly- their baby, _their baby_ \- hugging the infant awkwardly to her chest. Her cries had softened into small snuffles and whimpers. She was tiny and adorable and

"She's perfect," Ichabod said softly. His voice sounded strangled. When Abbie tore her gaze away from their newborn daughter, she found that he had tears streaming down his cheeks. "She's beautiful," he said, mouthing the words, seeming unable to get them past his lips.

If Abbie wasn't so tired, she probably would have started bawling, too.

"Hey, baby," she murmured, fingering the blanket away from their daughter's chin. "Hey..." She couldn't reach the level of strength to sob, but the tears collecting in her eyes fell quickly nonetheless. "Our baby..."

"My God, Abbie," Ichabod gasped, pressing his head against her collarbone, burying his face against her neck. "You're perfect, you're both so perfect. I love you both, so, _so_ much..."

Abbie was stuck between laughing and crying. Their daughter squirmed slightly in her arms. She was really there. This was really happening.

He was right.

It was perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's a good nightcap for the renewal news. :) (I'm literally over the moon, I just found out. This is great, you guys are great, the Sleepyheads are great, our fandom is great. I can't even right now.)
> 
> Anyway, one more chapter to come, with, of course, the one thing you all still want to know.


	44. Fate, Destiny, and Our Life Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is a beautiful chapter in our lives, Abbie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_.

After delivering the afterbirth, Abbie had finally, _finally_ been able to sleep. As much as she didn't want to sleep now, not now, not with a baby in their arms, she had fallen asleep with basically no resistance.

When she woke up, the first thing she saw was Ichabod gazing down at their daughter. Now that her nerves had settled, she was consciously aware of herself tearing up. She closed her eyes again to wait for them to clear, and then spoke. "You look good with a baby," she said playfully.

Ichabod looked up. "Abbie. You're awake." He smiled softly, glancing between their daughter and her. "Your mommy's awake, sweetheart."

Abbie felt the tears fall again and she brushed them away irritably. How long would it take for her emotions to resettle? "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Just a few hours," Ichabod said softly. "She might need feeding again, if you feel up to it."

Abbie nodded, gently taking their daughter from him. The first time, earlier, when she'd tried breastfeeding, it had felt weird, although not unpleasant. It was the same sensation this time, as their daughter instinctively turned into her body and latched on, but she was a little more awake this time, and a lot more aware. It still felt weird, not unpleasant, but it felt... good. Right. God, she was clichéd into thinking that everything was perfect right now, but it felt... yeah.

"Miss Jenny stopped in. Well, in all actuality, she wouldn't be stopped when she heard that she had a niece," Ichabod said, pushing his chair closer to the bed. "She said that she loves you and that she harbors an intense hatred towards me for calling her so late into the labor."

Abbie chuckled, stroking her knuckle against their daughter's cheek. "Sounds like Jenny."

"Captain Irving said that he would stop by later if we hadn't returned home by then. The precinct has sent a multitude of congratulatory gifts." He gestured towards the far well; there were flowers and balloons and teddies that Abbie hadn't even noticed.

"And all this happened while I was sleeping?" Abbie repeated. "Huh... news travels _fast_."

Ichabod smiled softly, leaning against the bed.

"You look happy," Abbie said softly.

"I am happy," Ichabod replied. "More happy than you could possibly realize. I am surrounded by the two people that I care about most in the world. My daughter, and my Lieutenant."

"Your _Lieutenant_?" Abbie laughed.

Ichabod's eyes twinkled with playful humor. "My Lieutenant. My brave, strong, beautiful Lieutenant. My Abbie."

"I'm pretty sure you said ‘my wife’ earlier," Abbie retorted. She only just remembered it, through the throes of things that she had or hadn't filed away for thinking about later. "Didn't you?"

Ichabod froze. "Er." He cleared his throat and Abbie watched with a grin as his cheeks tinted pink. "I simply meant-"

"It's fine," Abbie interrupted, laughing quietly. "I didn't mind." She settled against his shoulder, resting her head against his. "I don't mind."

Ichabod breathed out, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Thank you."

Abbie hummed softly, watching their daughter. "Do you think... you think everyone else knew? Back in your day, Washington, or Franklin, or even Grace Dixon? Do you think they knew?"

"About...?"

Abbie nodded towards their baby. "Our daughter, our relationship, our lives together."

"Sometimes," Ichabod said shortly, "I feel as though everyone else knows of our fate except us ourselves. But, happily, this was a development that I was pleased to be surprised on, as I am sure I will continue to be." He reached over to wiggle his finger into their daughter's hand; she clasped onto it immediately. "This is a beautiful chapter in our lives, Abbie."

Her face felt like it was going to break after smiling so much. "It is. I never imagined... something like this, I mean, our duty as Witnesses, I never thought... _this_ was our kind of destiny, you know?"

Ichabod hummed in response. He came to a stop a second later, tensing up minutely.

"Ichabod?" Abbie glanced over at him.

"Our destiny." Ichabod straightened up, looking at her.

"... Yes?" Abbie frowned. "Crane, I'm still half asleep, what are you trying to say?"

"Our destiny." His eyes flicked from her down to their daughter. "Destiny." He looked back up at her, and made the circuit again, looking hopeful and curious at the same time.

" _Oh_." Abbie blinked. "Destiny, you mean..."

"Her name," Ichabod clarified. "It wasn't one that we had on the list, however-"

"I love it," Abbie interrupted. "And if we went off our list for middle names, um..." She thought back, cycling through the names they had liked. "Mae? Destiny Mae Mills-Crane? God, that's a mouthful, although I suppose it'll just be ‘Crane’ soon enough... we can have that put on the birth certificate, you know. Just ‘Crane’."

Ichabod was positively beaming. Wait, was that what _glowing_ looked like? Had Abbie looked like that while she was pregnant? Surely not. "Truly, Miss Mills?"

"Well, I wasn't gonna take back what I said before, and you're already calling me your wife..." she trailed off, reaching over to swat his arm playfully.

"Destiny Mae," Ichabod repeated. "It's-"

"Perfect."

"Yes."

Abbie chuckled, only breaking off when Ichabod leaned over to kiss her.

"Welcome to the family... Destiny," he said softly, resting his head against hers again.

"Welcome to the family, little one," Abbie echoed, both of them falling silent as they turned back to watch their latest chapter in the unfolding story of their - strange and still yet perfect wouldn't change it for the world crazy - lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're really disappointed because you think the name's cheesy, I understand. But I thought of it a long time ago and I _loved_ the idea of it, because it's perfect, y'know? I'm so not sorry. xD
> 
> A humongous THANK YOU to all the followers, the casual fans, the bookmarkers, the subscribers, the commenters, the kudos-ers... Everyone who's followed this crazy ride of a story. The support has been freaking spectacular, I'm tickled pink that this got so much attention. Thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> Now, because I know it's on quite a few people's minds... do keep calm. I'm not making promises as to when, or how long, or scenarios, but... _Ichabod and Abbie's Continuing Adventures in: Raising a Child_ is on the books! It will not follow a strict of pattern as this; it'll just be oneshots spread around and maybe not in necessarily the right age order. I've taken on a pretty demanding project for a different fandom, so again, no promises when, but keep an eye out if you'd be interested in seeing this series expanded. ;)
> 
> Thank you all again!  
> S


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